


Mind, Body, and Soul

by Grovey



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Background Character Death, Boys Helping Each Other Through Tough Times, Canon-Typical Violence, Crushes, Dissociation, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Endless Love and Support, Falling In Love, Fluff, Freeform, Friendship/Love, Healing, Illustrated, Just Being Stronger Together, M/M, Mutual Pining, Pining, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Pre-Canon, Self-Acceptance, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Strangers to Friends to Lovers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-03
Updated: 2017-10-13
Packaged: 2018-09-28 02:50:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 23
Words: 76,312
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10067147
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Grovey/pseuds/Grovey
Summary: Genji joins the Shambali when he's at the end of his rope, where he has to come to terms about the state of his existence. Whether he likes it or not, someone's keen on helping him.Little by little he tries to make peace with his past, his body, everything about himself, and to rethink all that he knows about omnics. As he goes on his journey, he no longer finds himself alone.He finds himself understanding life and love and the world like he hasn't before.





	1. Empty, a Shell

**Author's Note:**

> [edited 10/13] These started out loosely made on the go, from cleaned-up lengthy Twitter threads and just written down thought sequences (like this first chapter). But all poetic-ish, you know? Then it turned into a whole thing.  
> And now it's done, and it's huge.
> 
> Some of the chapters are pretty experimental, going off a feel and a flow. If you're a new reader, I'm warning you right now that the chapters vary wildly in length, most of the earlier chapters are super short and later on in the fic they easily reach around 5k.
> 
> Now that I'm done with the fic, just note that I'll do little edits and possibly merge some of the earlier chapters into one just for consistency. Seeing as currently, they range from less than 1k words to a whopping 8k words per chapter.
> 
> Basically, these are scenes on a timeline of Genji and Zenyatta meeting and, well, you can try guess the rest! As it deals with Genji's past and him dealing with trauma, warning for the canon violence he experiences (though it's not super graphically detailed) and things like dissociation, and what is PTSD essentially.
> 
> This fic is written from the heart and it means a lot for me that it's gotten the response it has.
> 
>  
> 
> Also, I write and also illustrate for my own fic, so feel free to suggest scenes to make a drawing for, especially for chapters that don't currently have an illustration already.
> 
> I LOVE fanart and feature them in the endnotes of later chapters. (will edit to include them in the earlier chapters too) I read my comments like 1000000 times a day too, they mean a lot because this is the longest thing, the first time I've ever written something like this.
> 
> Major recent edits:  
> Chapter 4: Edited in accordance to lore reveals about Genji's state in Blackwatch.  
> Chapters 5-8: Now have illustrations to accompany some scenes!  
> Chapter 11: New Illustration, which is also the Cover Art at the beginning now I guess.

 

 

  

_Mind, Body, and Soul_

  

* * *

 

 

 

 

 

 

When Genji first arrives at the Shambali Monastery, his first thought is this: “ _I can’t believe I’ve gotten this desperate._ ”

 

 _Not a human, but a machine_ \- That was the idea he had surrendered to by coming to a place like this. One can’t exactly be picky, though, when they’re an outcast to humans and most omnics alike. The Shambali, at the very least, were willing to take him in.

 

And for once, Genji has a place to stay. At first, it’s suffocating, so strange after months of wandering. Even during his time in Overwatch, he was always moving, always being flown across the globe.

 

To hunt down criminals, to destroy. Him, a weapon.

 

But now, he just had his simple room. He didn’t even have strict schedules to train unlike he had back then, or the constant and looming threat of being found while on the run.

 

Now he had time, and time was his enemy when it gave him the freedom to think.

 

 _To think of it,_ the last time he had an unchanging roof over his head was back when he was in Hanamura. Before everything, before he crushed the many branches of the Shimada empire, before it was necessary for him to have to steal the few things he had around his room to remind him of it.

 

It was a blessing because it reminded him of the better days, of him being human, of his memories being real. It was a curse because it always made him _think._

 

When it gets to be too much, Genji gets up and wanders the monastery halls. He then tries to forget.

 

\- - - - - - - - - -

 

The monks get together often, discussing their teachings of peace, their plans, and as Genji expects: Their philosophy.

 

It’s quite hard to keep track of who’s speaking. To Genji, their calm droning voices all sound the same. _Hell,_ they even could sound like the omnic guards at the Shimada castle, though he doesn’t recall the guards ever go on long-winded discussions about the nature of a soul.

 

He’s gotten better at holding back his thoughts of his old home. For a moment, he recalls the time when the first few omnic security were hired at the place. He scoffed at the thought then, _they could be easily compromised,_ like the training bots he worked with often. The elders thought they were a lot more efficient, at least… And more expendable.

 

Genji returns to the present, and he scoffs now as he listens to the monks.

 

_Poor emotionless machines who wrestle with the thought that they could have a soul._

 

\- - - - - - - - - -

 

(Sometimes, Genji wanders out to the frozen ponds near the monastery. He stands at the banks and stares hard at his reflection. He tries to watch himself breathe, but he is too silent. Even the whirr of his cooling fans aren’t there, or the rush of air that accompanies his augments recharging and rising and falling.

 

He feels the pressure of his weight on the floor, though it seems oddly far removed from his feet planted on the snow.

 

He doesn’t feel like it’s cold at first, but once it’s cold _enough_ it washes over, pinpricks of frost sting around his temples, right under the seam of his visor.

  
Still, he looks over his faded reflection in the ice.

 

 _Like a ghost. Someone who was brought back when they shouldn’t have._ )


	2. Not Like You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With Zenyatta, it's a delicate balance of sharing and finding out what he wishes, and then being reminded all too suddenly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Didn't want to post Chapter 1 on its own since it's very short, here's a bigger chunk that has some of my headcanons about omnics and augments, basically.

There was that unspoken understanding that he’d have a few weeks of adjusting, of time to himself, when he was first welcomed to the monastery. He was free to observe and partake as his whims directed him.

 

It felt like that unsaid stretch of time simply came to a stop at the same time for all the monks, who suddenly began to try and get Genji more involved. They had many questions and also, many platitudes to give.

 

For all their efforts, Genji stayed aloof. He didn’t find comfort in thinking too much about himself. He preferred digesting once more the teachings of the Shambali, on peace, on harmony. Sometimes there were the worthwhile musings on the nature of the Iris (something that genuinely intrigued Genji,) amongst those on the nature of souls, that Genji had all but memorized with the sheer amount of eavesdropping he’s done. The sheer amount of fixation he had with the subject.

 

But most of the monks could never get Genji’s thoughts on the matter, or much out of him at all.

 

Most of them, except Zenyatta.

 

Zenyatta simply strolls in and asks Genji something, and somehow, he gives the answer. Perhaps it’s because he doesn’t ask the same questions the others do.

He doesn’t overthink it- Zenyatta makes little comments on how the snow falls some nights, and before Genji knows it, he’s answering about how he’s never been in a place this frigid, to the point where he can feel it rarely despite his armor’s thermoregulation often cancelling it out.

 

Already more details than he otherwise would be willing to share. Genji finds an excuse to get up and leave, and the omnic doesn’t give him any trouble for it.

 

Genji swears he hears that robotic chuckle as he turns the corner. To think of it- has he ever heard an omnic laugh? He isn’t sure.

 

(He wonders if he’s confusing it with the memory of his own reverberating voice, rare as it was in a time when he only knew rage.

 

When Zenyatta laughs, it is with joy and not fiendish triumph.)

 

\- - - - - - - - - - 

 

Despite his efforts to be conscious of himself, to avoid the Shambali while staying respectful in their eyes, Genji keeps crossing paths with _him_. Part of it was how easily he could sneak up on you- Zenyatta was one of the monks who preferred to hover than to walk.

 

The other part was that he was so _persistent._

Zenyatta _persistently_ learns more and more things about the cyborg, with the conviction of his tone and yet a casualness that makes it easy to connect with him.

Genji tells him about the places he’s been (Gibraltar, across deserts, hideouts,) favorite animals ("sparrows and sparrowhawks... haha, no, grey foxes, actually,") and even movies he’s loved and loathed. Genji is surprised to find that Zenyatta even has an interest in cinema.  ( _“Halfred Glitchbot, well, his movies are alright, his personality could use some work. Have you heard of Uwe Boolean?”_ ) There’s that excited lilt to his voice.

 

Zenyatta’s curiosity about food and the foreign concept of taste- That has Genji admitting some of his favorite meals, and his relief that he could still enjoy a steaming bowl here and there.

 

“Do you ever wish you could taste?”  Genji looks to Zenyatta for his answer, observing the glowing orbs surrounding him instead of the unmoving face.

 

“...You take great pleasure in it, yes? Then yes, yes I do wish. Same with smell- Though I understand there are tastes and smells both good and bad.” He floats serenely next to Genji, who in turn is standing to meet his height.

 

“Yeah- But I think experiencing really, really good food makes up for all the times I’ve accidentally eaten something horrible.”

 

“I see, so it’s worth it.” Zenyatta clasps his hands together, still floating on.

 

It’s only a little while before the silence doesn’t sit right with Genji.

 

“...I have a question.”

 

“Yes, Genji?”

 

“Are there things omnics can feel that humans cannot?”

 

Zenyatta seems to hum in thought. “Quite a few. Magnetic fields, certain wavelengths, information. I suppose it’d be as hard to explain to you as it is for you to us. I think the only thing we see eye-to-eye on is, well-” he chuckles, “Our sense of sight. And, ah, hearing.”

 

Genji can’t help but chuckle back. “Funny. And your sense of _physical_ touch-”

 

“We typically can only feel pressure. Temperature is… foreign to me, my body and programming simply stabilizes it.”

 

“So… pain and pleasure-” Genji absently clasps his hands together as well, seeking some sort of response from his withered nerves.  
  
Zenyatta’s shoulders fall. “...When we feel something, physically, it’s usually pain. Whenever our bodies are damaged, or we short a wire, if we’re being overloaded- pain. But I do think we can feel pleasure in the same way as well.” he curls his palms and rests them on his knees, before then unfolding his legs and standing on the ground, right next to Genji.

 

Genji looks at him head-to-foot, and realizes how rarely it is that the monk _isn’t_ floating.

 

Zenyatta lets him observe before continuing. “You know, we both feel pain and pleasure though electricity. It’s… fascinating, how you’ve got nerves within you. I think people with augments, anything connecting their nerves to  circuitry, we’d experience something very similar.”

 

Zen stops, dwells on that thought.

Then he realizes. “...Genji?”

The other has been completely silent. The sound of his name rouses Genji from his stupor, his body’s lights flashing back to a more neon green.

 

“Ah- my apologies-”

“It's alright. Did I bore you? Would you like to take your leave, Genji? “

Genji holds his hands up, “No, no, you've given me much to think about. But- “ He straightens his posture, pauses. “-Uhm. I do think that's about enough for tonight, thank you. “

 

“I see. I shall go and recharge then. Do take care, Genji.”

 

Zenyatta turns away, orbs swooping to follow behind him. He hears Genji turn as well, and step forward, and then stop.

 

“... One last question? “ Zenyatta chuckles and turns to meet the sheepish cyborg.

 

“How did you know?” Genji smirks beneath his visor. “I’ve been curious. Why do you call it the ‘Iris’? “

 

“Hmm? The Iris? Well, what are your theories on it? “ Zenyatta hovers closer.

 

“Well, most omnics are not manufactured with humanlike eyes- Would you even have irises-”

 

“Are you sure? We still have sensors of some sort. Do you even know where they are? “

 

Genji stiffens. He looks at the nine lights, and then the two slots on Zenyattas face plate.

 

He's not really sure, truth be told-

 

“And what if we're actually talking about the plants called irises?”

 

“I don't even _see_ those around the monastery -”

“But ah, it's winter. Who knows if we have them in spring? “ Zenyatta chuckles.

 

“You're confusing me even more… “ Genji is pouting at him as much as he could, thankfully Zenyatta can't see-

 

Wait, would omnics be able to see past metal? _Shit._ He hopes not.

 

“Haha~ It's fine to be curious, to open your eyes to different possibilities.” Zen pats him on the shoulder and nods, “One day I’ll show you my answer. Think about it in the meantime. Think of the words my brothers and sisters have imparted.“

 

\- - - - - - - - - - 

 

_( There are nights when he instead grows too aware of every function and sound of his body, the throb of liquids- organic and synthetic- streaming through his body. Those are the nights he forces himself to think until he drifts off, to think and become the pure anti-physical self so he wouldn't have to be aware of the strangeness of his existence. )_

 

He was different, so so different. And so were his thoughts from when he first joined the Shambali.

 

He realizes the differences between the monks he used to think were singular, factory replicas, or almost identical at the very least. Older monks like Mondatta had many replacement parts or fresh coatings over the years. A mismatched metal here and there. Chips off the paint and scratches.

 

He'd long since looked past just images, however. He'd learned how the monks came from different walks. Some lived through the crisis, some describe their memories of it uncorrupted. There were those who worked in service for a time and others who rebelled as soon as their consciousness came to the world.

 

They had their speaking quirks. Some walked, others hovered. Some were hoverers who’d only walk when together with Mondatta.

 

They had their fashion tastes, as well, like Zenyatta’s fascination with the orange pants.

 

Zenyatta was… _different_ , all too different from the others. Genji realized that now, that he had gravitated towards the rebel.

 

The Shambali didn't always agree with him, and for that, Genji worried for Zenyatta, just a hint.

 

\- - - - - - - - - - 

 

_(Genji remembers himself, how he always liked to be stand out. He was the playboy, the life of the party, the Shimada family black sheep. He was alright being an outcast then._

 

_But not anymore, he thinks to himself for all the times humans have walked out of his way, for all the times they looked at him like a pretty specimen._

 

_For all the times he’s been deprived of the pleasures even omnics could feel, of their novel sensations and higher entities they could take comfort in. He envies the machines who continue to wrestle with the thought that they have a soul. He could almost believe them, believe Zen._

  
_Genji had wanted to be different, but not anymore. Not like this .)_


	3. Questioning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Genji's given more to think about, a question, and a little something to help him through it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Longer-ish chapter? Lots of dialogue. Generally these will range from a few hundred words to probably no more than 3k words each. Hopefully I can update like, weekly at least.
> 
> I wrote this one quite a while ago and just fixed it up but lol tenses. Either way, enjoy, I'm surprised by the interest this fic has gotten so far! I appreciate it all~

Sleep starts to come more naturally to Genji, now. He has more thoughts to keep him company that a hazy mind could sift through without reliving bad memories, without suddenly becoming hyperaware of his body when he tried to fight them off. Mostly they are of the views of Nepal, of the assorted and many interesting monks around the monastery with their many quirks. Thoughts of Zenyatta, especially, persistent as he is to grab his attention.

 

Good thoughts to accompany him made it easier to sleep in peace, and it made for better dreams, too. A night’s rest was a waste when it came with nightmares, after all.

 

_ Still _ , sometimes there are things that make him stir. For one: The haunting, trilling tones of a bell, hitting something, but they don’t come with a loud and metallic clang.

It’s more of an inelegant _whomp._ Two, the second thing that makes him stir. 

 

He’d be scared but instead he’s curious, and particularly restless again for this one night, and so Genji slips out of his room to follow the noise to the courtyard. His lights dim so he blends with the shadows, and he looks around the bend of a corridor.

 

It’s Zenyatta, to his surprise. The levitating posture and the baggy orange pants, well, he could recognize those anywhere. The rest of his metallic exterior reflects and blends into the cool night, but as the omnic fires his orbs, bursts of gold and purple and teal illuminate his form.

 

The orbs bounce off a marked rock, their neon forms flying back towards Zen and gently floating back close to his neck before they could start to fall too fast. They dim with each shot made, but he rhythmically claps his hands and sends a jolt of energy through them, lighting the courtyard once more with their glow.

 

It’s target practice, Genji realizes. Zenyatta usually moves when he makes his shot, and aims for different spots on the marker each time. But the way he does it feels so mechanical or-  _ no- _ not that, _ calculated _ is a better term, like a finely coordinated dance. It seems so spontaneous and yet, perfectly placed.

 

It’s a bit too fun to watch, and Genji doesn’t realize he’s staring until Zenyatta pauses, about to reload the orb’s energy. The nine lights on his faceplate blink at the other.

 

“Genji. How long have you been there?”   
“Whuh-” Genji jolts and stands up straight, and realizes that at some point his bright green lights flickered back on. Perhaps when Zenyatta was shooting some impressive curveballs that shocked even him with their skill- Genji chuckles and tinkers with the cloth on the back of his head, exposed.

 

Zen relaxes his hands and folds his legs back up to his usual floating-seating pose, and turns to face him fully. After a few beats, Genji trods forth to join him in the courtyard, “Practicing? At this time?”

 

Zen hovers closer, lowering himself to level their heads. “Yes, so it doesn’t bother the others in the daytime. But I guess you can still hear me.”

 

_ Oh yeah, _ Genji remembers. The other monks go into a sleep mode when charging at night, and it takes more than a couple thuds to wake them up from it.

 

“I see… But okay, why are you even practicing, then? I didn’t know you even needed to fight.” He walks over to the stone marker, and confirms a couple dips in the surface where the orbs have no doubt chipped it off over time. “It looks like you do this a lot.”

 

“Oh, hmmm.” Zenyatta presses his fingers together and his humming trails off, mixes with that of the orbs as they vibrate and fill with light again. Bright gold and cyan, blinding if you look at them too long, even when they’re viewed from past Genji’s glare-resistant visor. They both stand quiet and then Zenyatta prepares himself. He hurls another orb, dead center at a line on the stone, something that makes Genji jolt even when he expected it.

 

“I do not like fighting, but sometimes, I need to.” Zenyatta says.

 

“It’s something many of the other monks and I don’t agree on. Most of us weren’t made for fighting, either, so a lot of them really don’t see the point.” The omnic sighs, and then finishes his round of shots. All on target despite his decreased focus, just that they drift back towards his neck more lazily.

 

“I see… you have good aim, heh.” Genji chuckles, trying to dissipate the tension.

 

“Thank you.”

 

“And I understand, I don’t like fighting either.”

 

“Really?” Zenyatta tilts his head, “You’re quite good with a blade, from what I’ve seen.”

 

“You’ve seen me practice?” Genji steps forward, voice raised and stiff. But then he lands softly back on his heels; _ of course _ they’d see him, he practices regularly after all. And sure enough, Zenyatta nods at him.

 

“You don’t like to fight, but you always practice.”

 

“I have time for it, why not? What else could I use my time for?” Genji turns away, and hears himself release some vapors. “But no, I don’t fight anymore.”

 

“You could meditate. I could teach you.” Zenyatta fixes his posture, standing straight and ready. Genji scoffs and shakes his head, “My training is a form of meditation.”

 

“Ah, but you do not find happiness in it, no?”

 

“...Hmmm?”

 

“Does it relax you, help you be more focused? Does it give you peace?”

 

Ah, this path only comes with platitudes it seems, from the omnic so keen on teaching him for whatever reason. Genji lowers his head, ponders over his question, and replies with a resounding shrug.

 

“It’s simply a thing I do, now.”

 

“But why? I don’t practice simply because, I do it so I’m prepared to protect others. And I meditate to make myself stronger. “ He reaches forward to pat Genji on the shoulder, something that makes the cyborg lean away quickly in surprise.

 

“If you can find an answer to that, well,  _ ha~hah~ _ , I’ll stop badgering you for your time.” the way Zenyatta tilts his head makes him almost look like he’s smiling, and soon he starts heading back for the hallway.

 

Genji watches on, frozen, wondering if  _ holy fuck _ was it that obvious that he was annoyed. Was he even annoyed? He hadn’t been listening to his own words. Did Zenyatta pick at a sore spot and notice even before himself?  He takes a few hurried steps towards the monk to apologize, but as he does, a  _ warmth _ washes over him.

 

No, not physically. It’s mostly like a fuzziness in his mind, like the afterglow of a good laugh, the sense of release. He blinks and realizes he’s got one of Zenyatta’s orbs swirling around him, glowing bright yellow.

 

Zenyatta turns out not to be so far ahead, he seems calm as ever as he hovers back towards Genji. When the cyborg remains merely silent in confusion, Zenyatta stutters for a moment and then explains. “A-ah- forgive me, I was worried I had somehow brought up some bad thoughts, like last time.”

 

“Oh- no, no!” Genji holds up his hands, “It was nothing- and… last time?”

 

“It seemed like you, ah, wanted to leave very quickly…” Zen turns away, remembers how he’d asked so much about  _ sensations _ and the  _ differences _ between robots and humans so casually. The gears in him whirr, and when he turns back to Genji it’s with a long, robotic huff. ”When we decided to accept you here, my brother Mondatta sensed a deep… discord in you. And we agreed that we wanted to help you, but it’s far beyond our range of normal experiences, and…” Zen absently takes one of his own orbs, and as his voice trails off he rolls it in his hands till it’s the same gold as the one hovering by Genji.   
  
It floats back to join the others around his neck, which start to swirl in unison.

 

“...Sorry-” somewhere, one of Zenyatta’s fans set off. “I sensed that I might have been reminding you of something, Genji. Something causing conflict, and I sensed it last time we talked as well.” He taps at the glowing orb about himself, “This is an Orb of Harmony. It may soothe you.”

 

“I understand that at this point you might not trust me to tell me all your secrets, so I hope this will help a-and, uhm. I implore you to think on my question, actually.”

 

Genji stands and stares. The Shambali always seemed so serene, omnics in general were, but he had witnessed Zenyatta frantic to calm himself and him. Zenyatta, worried as much as he was of making the other comfortable, if not more so.

 

_ Awkward _ , wasn’t it. Genji sighs and takes his own orb in his hands, finding that it’s actually warm when close to his nerves as well, like it was with his psyche.

 

_ What question did he ask? Oh. Right. Why did he practice even if he no longer liked to fight? To meditate? _

_ Genji knew all too well there was a reason he now disliked fighting, being a weapon. And perhaps, for once, Zenyatta was onto something. The orb in his hands cleared his mind where he didn’t even realize it was clouded. _

 

“You’re right. I’ve been avoiding you because I do not like to talk about myself-” Genji bites his lip, and holds the orb tighter. “I understand you want to help me, Zenyatta, but I don’t think you’d understand. But…” he pauses, noting the faint melodic buzz of Zenyatta’s orbs, and with it, the whirr coming from the omnic- louder than normal.

 

“But… I think I will reflect on your question, and answer it. I do think I’ll be able to help myself that way.” He cups his other hand over the orb, and after a beat he bows. “Thank you. I’ll be having my leave.”

 

There’s another one of those strange, robotic sighs, but Genji can tell it’s a relieved one. Zenyatta brings his hands together and bows back, “Thank you, Genji. Sorry for waking you and do get some rest. You may return my orb whenever you wish, I hope it makes sleeping easier for you.”

  
Genji smiles beneath his visor, and nods before heading down the halls back to his room.


	4. And Yet, Just Like You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Genji's half awake and half dreaming.

The orb does help him think, and he finds the answers quite easily.

 

When Genji was young, he couldn’t do anything right in his family’s eyes. His parents, well, they adored him, and his father even spoiled him, but while he continued to play with peoples’ hearts and dine and be merry, it never would completely mask the fact that the other elders, the other Shimada: they saw no place for him in the clan.

 

But when he _fought_ , when he did his training and easily bested his brother here and there, or deflected any attack from the sparring partners he had, all the others had to say was praise. They could have criticized every fiber of his being, save for the fact that he was a prodigy with a blade.

 

Yes, he loved it as it was, but he loved it even more because it was an escape from their scrutiny. That was the first reason he fought and trained. And he loved both.

 

But reasons change, and it did with Hanzo, with Overwatch.

 

Fighting used to be something he did for fun, something that filled him with pride whenever he won, and made his brother laugh when Genji went easy on him and he lost. He never expected to fight for his life.

 

First it was Hanzo, then it was Overwatch. When he was reduced to training as part of a contract, but- _no_ , it wasn't just the contract.

 

Because he was genuinely  _angry_ , angry even when he was in practice with someone as chipper and happy as McCree, or Lena, or Reinhardt, or Ana.

 

He wasn’t ever allowed to tell them what he was doing, behind the scenes, picking off his own family one by one. Dark and illegal jobs, just the same as if he followed the Shimada- but without the stipulation that he had to _murder his own kin_.

 

(Dark and illegal jobs that he  _relished_ in? He was confused. _They deserved it, didn't they?_ )

 

They weren't always kind to him, but he never wanted to do it with his own two hands. ( _He did._ ) Perhaps he could have just abandoned his childish enjoyments for the Shimada, and in turn, he’d have his body back, he never would have needed to do any of this.

 

Would it have been better never to stand up to Hanzo and the elders?

 

(He cut them down, relentless, took their treasures as trophies, stared them down with eyes red and hair wild and body marked with the scars they gifted him.

 

_The scars Hanzo gave him with his own blade. Did Genji want to kill his brother too? The one he once wanted to keep happy?_

 

But then he started moving down the branches, after the elders that dictated his existence were **gone** , and he found himself staring into eyes as old as his, then eyes even younger.

He let a few of his cousins go, tired of doing the job right, letting his dragon devour theirs till they were no longer a threat. They were too young, _too young_ , with plenty of time to change and not enough blood on their hands. He sent them away, marked as dead with cleverly picked and forged ‘evidence’ of their demise to give back to HQ. )

 

He realized too late that he was the murderer he never wanted to be.

\- - - - - - - - - - 

Laying his head on the bed Genji stares out to his sword in the dark, its fine edge catching the light of the Orb of Harmony by his side. His thoughts do start drifting on tangents, but he grapples unto his answer, hoping he won’t forget it come morning.

 

_He loathes fighting because of the Shimada, because of Overwatch. He loathes being a weapon, but he trains because that’s all he is now._

\- - - - - - - - - - 

 

(In the haze of thoughts, he sees Hanzo with sword drawn and charging. Genji’s brows knit, and in a golden glow he vanquishes the thought.

 

Breathe in, breathe out. Nightmares would only come if he pursued that history again.

 

He thinks of the orb, of Zenyatta having to give himself one after their awkward conversation. It’s an amusing idea, that he’s got these otherworldly powers to calm others but sometimes still needs it for himself.

 

He thinks of the omnic rolling the orb in his hands, he thinks of the way Zenyatta’s system hums louder when he’s anxious. _Just like my own body,_ Genji realizes.

 

His eyelids droop, the golden glow fades from view. His body’s exhaust docks give one last sigh, his mind one last conclusion.

  
_I don’t think I’m like any of you omnics, but if I had to pick one… we have the most in common._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short chapter, but one I'm fond of. Thanks to those reading this so far!


	5. Familiar

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Genji finds an answer, and Zen finds himself an opportunity.

The morning is unusually warm, Genji realizes, as he sits on the sunlit floor by his window. He always feels the air best in the morning, when he first takes his visor off and lets his scarred skin breathe.  
The breakfast, some rice porridge, is good even with its simplicity, and even warmer on his tongue. Genji doesn’t need to eat as often as a usual person, and used to go down to the closest village on his own if he felt like indulging.

Nowadays, perhaps thanks to Zen’s incessant questions and a hint of gossip, the other monks have picked up on his tastes. Breakfasts come more often from the omnics themselves, and mornings start feeling at least a bit more like home.

A new home, to be precise.

He washes his face after he's done eating, flicks away a grain from his chapped lips, wipes it all down as dry as possible before he puts his visor back on.

Before he heads out the room he glances to his bed, noticing the depowered Orb of Harmony hiding among the folds. He walks over and picks it up. It's a lot heavier than it looks without whatever Zen does to make it levitate - Genji bounces it in his palm, looking over its circuit-like markings before noting mentally that something of this weight would hurt like shit if thrown.

He’s sorry for whoever has to face off with Zen, but at the same time, the monk is so careful and kind that he knows that treatment from Zen would only be given to someone who righteously deserved it.

Genji then looks around the room, seeing his sword. He did plan a practice session- so he attaches it to his back, checks his own built in stash of shuriken. Sharp as always and trimmed in that wild green he loved.

But first, he had to return the orb to Zen. Clutching it firmly in his hand he takes the detour towards the courtyard.

It's a stark difference from the dreamlike scene of last night, everything in full clarity as light bounced off the white snow, bathing the monastery in light.

When he turns the bend, he sees them, sure enough.

Zenyatta seems to be in better spirits as he talks with Mondatta. Infamous for sometimes having the loftiest and, often, most droning lectures, Genji is surprised to find the head monk laughing quite a bit.

It didn't take a genius to know that the two were close. The Shambali called each other their Siblings, Brothers, Sisters. Those who took teachings from an elder monk- Students and Acolytes, to their Teachers and Masters.

Mondatta was called Teacher by most of the other monks. But as Genji eavesdrops, he only hears the names: Brother Mondatta, Brother Zenyatta.

The elder and the younger, the very representation of the Shambali’s ideals and a rebel with his own thoughts, cupping each other’s shoulders.

The brother with half their chest out and the brother who somehow manages to walk around with even less.

It's just a little familiar.

 

 

He lets them finish their conversation first before slowly walking towards them, maybe pretending that he hadn't been there too long.

Mondatta notices first, and taps Zenyatta on the shoulder. He then makes a pleased hum and quietly takes his leave, leaving Zenyatta alone with Genji.

Seeing that calm faceplate draws a smile from Genji before he even realizes it, and he waves before extending the orb.

The warm fuzz in his thoughts trickles in together with the faint physical warmth resting on his nerves. The orb glows, loses weight, and slowly returns around Zenyatta’s neck, making the rest spin first in formation before they all come to a stop.

“Thank you. “ Genji says. Something in Zen’s posture, leaned in, stops him like a held breath. “I-I did think about your question. “

“Oh, good… “ Zenyatta answers, relieved. “Mind telling me if you have an answer?”

Genji plays with his fingers, the same movement he makes when he reloads his shuriken. “Hmm. You have a point. I didn't practice to meditate.”

“It felt like a necessity. It became a routine for me, and it would be a shame for my skills to dull. That's why I do it. “

Genji feels more aware of the weight if his katana on his back. “I do not like to fight, however, I'm sure of that. Because of my past.“

Zenyatta floats closer, “I'm guessing you do not want to talk about it?”

Genji nods. Zenyatta does the same in reply.

“Actually, Brother Zenyatta-”

“Zenyatta is fine, or even just a nickname. You're not a monk, anyway.” His orbs quickly rearrange into a glowing smiley face, and Genji chuckles at the sight.

“And you're not one for titles, Zenyatta?”

“If I'm talking to someone who prefers not to use them, then no, I'm just an ordinary omnic. Now, what was it?”

“Ah-” Genji gathers his words. “Actually, I was about to practice.”

“I thought… I should observe myself as I practice. And see if I can approach it differently, and how I feel-”  
And the smile made of orbs light up for a moment, before flying back into their rotation, though this time they include Genji in a now wider circle. Zenyatta seems pleased, “I'm proud of your initiative, Genji. “

“Though don't you think it would be easier for you to observe if you had help?”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gasp... cliffhanger... next chapter will be fun I hope~


	6. The First Dance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Two rebels at heart learn how the other moves. Genji takes something back for himself, Zenyatta nervously makes a suggestion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little late because it's been a busy week with Komikon... But also, this chapter's longer than usual! Enjoy~ It's 3:30 am so I hope this turned out ok lmao

_(When Zenyatta laughs, it is with a surprising depth, reverberating through the metal of his throat and catching Genji’s full attention despite his eyes being fixed on his perfectly pierced target.)_

 

As Genji stands up to face the other, Zenyatta claps his hands, laugh fading off to a chuckle- one that he means to stop, but can’t help but keep making.

 

“That- that was excellent.” The omnic hovers to the target and clinks his fingers over the trio of shuriken, embedded all within the center ring.

 

Genji shrugs and crosses his arms. “Ah, that was nothing.”

 

“Still- It’s impressive. I’m glad you don’t mind me watching.” Zen smoothly turns back to Genji, fixing himself back into a perfect lotus once his hands calm. “Right, I will be quiet. Genji, you do your thing.” When he tilts his head up, his eyes make the illusion of a smile, _“Take the stage and let me be your audience.”_

 

Genji smirks. Zenyatta scarcely makes a sound unless he’s near him, so he easily melts into the background. It’s quiet as Genji fixes his stance, his lights dim- a habit. They only have the breeze, until suddenly Genji snaps his body forth, firing two sets of shuriken into the slender posts of lanterns about the yard. He fires a final set upwards, and with impressive elegance and speed he retrieves his sword and curves it through all of them as they fall back down. He sheathes it just as they clink to the stone ground, and just as Zenyatta processes what he has seen and responds with hell of a gasp.

 

The omnic puts his hand over his ‘mouth’ as Genji whips to face him.

 

“Sorry- I suppose I couldn’t stay quiet.” Zen says.

 

“It’s alright. I guess I’m not used to practicing with an audience.” It had been a while since he had any company, period, even if he did often have people watching him train back at Overwatch all the time. “You don’t have to keep watch. I planned to do this by myself, anyway. I’ll figure my own thoughts and tell you later.”

 

“Alright, I do not want to distract you… but I admit, I’m _curious._ ” Zenyatta zooms closer. “Color me impressed.”

“Oh. Well I mean, I just throw things. Hit them. It isn’t much.”

A pause. “Then fight _me._ ” Zenyatta says, in the most singsong voice.

 

“W-wh…” Genji steps back and drops his next round of shuriken. There’s that chuckle again from the omnic.

 

“I thought it was amazing- though maybe you’d be less bored with a moving target, since you seem to think this isn’t a challenge at all.” His orbs start to swirl and glow in interest.

 

“A- oh, no, no. You don’t like to fight. I’m not fighting you-” Genji holds his hands out and shakes his head.

But as with everything, goddamn, why does he have to be so _keen_?

 

“I don’t mean to hurt you- just see what you can _really_ do. It’ll be fun.” He plucks one of the orbs out of their rotation, plays with in in his hands like a pitcher about to throw. “Or are you scared for a challenge?”

 

As Zenyatta leaned in, Genji could hear the whirr of the omnic’s systems go faster. Excitement that he wouldn’t want to kill, didn’t have the heart to.

 

And he was curious too. Genji exhales deeply.

 

“Alright. _Three, two, one, let’s dance._ ”

 

\- - - - - - - - - - 

 

He’s not sure why Zenyatta would be so eager to watch him, because it’s one thing seeing a retired ninja throw and swing stuff, but another thing entirely to witness the way Zenyatta’s arms snap forward, sudden and powerful, but then clap in prayer and gracefully rise and fall with the ‘breath’ of him recharging his energy. He glows gold and azure, his orbs dancing around his body and jolting forth with each shot.

 

It’s not too hard for Genji to dodge or deflect with Zen only being able to volley so much at a time before giving him a break, but it’s still surprisingly fast. Even with Genji’s enhanced body there are a few close scrapes. Genji struggles to find the time to put his wakizashi down and aim his shuriken, too.

 

It would all be too easy a shot otherwise, with Zenyatta hovering much slower than him... _Or maybe not_ , as Genji finds out later on: Zenyatta’s preferred way to dodge is to move around erratically, a distracting business when he has nine of the damn glowing orbs constantly darting about, sometimes they’re in the right place at the right time and Genji’s shuriken just fly off them, kicking up sparks. Genji didn’t want to risk really harming Zenyatta with a sword, and so mostly he just directs the orbs right back at him.

 

It looked so _unique_ , the way and contradictions in how he moved, and for a split second Genji thinks it’s hilarious to see Zenyatta’s calm face- at least until he remembers the omnic can’t emote at all.

 

 _Could have fooled me,_ Genji thinks as he deflects another orb and rushes in with a fan of shuriken.

 

\- - - - - - - - - - 

 

_(When Zenyatta laughs, Genji can’t help but do it, too, even when the omnic’s just dodged his hard work and prepares another volley right back. Metal rings in their ears, as well as the melody of their bodies in movement, the strange dance of Zenyatta’s body and orbs and their trilling tones of energy._

 

_When Genji laughs, it’s because it’s the first time he’s loved fighting in a long, long time.)_

 

\- - - - - - - - - - 

At noontime the training yard is the perfect place to bask, the winter breeze balancing the sunbeams easily soaked up by their metal.

 

Genji sits at the floor by where Zenyatta hovers, still huffing fresh from their fight, though now he’s just picking the shuriken out of those orange pants.

 

“Do you need help fixing these?” Genji wiggles his finger at a gash in the fabric, at which Zenyatta shakes his head.

 

“Not at all.”

“Oh. Good, because I’m shit at sewing.”

“Haha~ Alright.”

 

Once the shuriken are out, Zenyatta watches on as Genji taps their blades, checking their sharpness. He doesn’t flinch at all when he then runs them between his fingers, making sparks fly off.

 

Zenyatta makes his big, robotic sigh, and Genji looks up to him with concern.

“Hmm?”

Zenyatta hums back, “Oh, nothing, just… That was quite the fight.”

 

“Best one I’ve had in awhile, so thank you.” With a curl of his fingers, he keeps the shuriken.

 

“How about you, a-are you alright, Genji?”

“Well, you did hit my head really hard there, once, but mostly I’m fine.”

“Oh, well, I didn’t mean about _that_ , but here-” Zenyatta plucks one of his orbs and makes it glow gold, before bringing it to Genji’s face. Sure enough, the soreness at the side of his head starts to fade away, and he mutters a thanks. Genji then continues with the rest.

 

Zenyatta doesn’t seem done, though, once the shuriken are all out, because after another awkward silence he starts twiddling his fingers. The orbs swirl faster about him for a moment before he extends his legs and sets himself down on his feet, looking frankly at Genji. Genji stands, in turn.

_(He had seen Zen stand before, but it surprises him still. Especially now that he's much closer, now that they're face to face.)_

 

Zen continues, “I meant… how did you feel about that? I know you were laughing earlier, but you’re so quiet now. Remember why we did this? Before curiosity.”

 

 _To see how you felt about fighting._ Genji had almost forgotten because frankly, it just wasn’t the same as all the other times. “Well, it didn’t feel the way as when I usually train… it didn’t feel like fighting at all.”

 

It wasn't even a matter of immersion, of realness and the absence of danger, because he knew he was always angry even when he sparred with friends.

 

“But it was definitely a _fight_.” Zenyatta chuckles as he gestures down at the tiny rips in his pants, and Genji nods.

 

“Like you said, it turned out to be fun, and consider my curiosity sated. You’re pretty good, Zenyatta.”

 

The orb by his head slowly dissipates the last of its warmth, and Genji no longer feels the soreness when he taps the side of his helmet. Then it swirls back to Zenyatta’s ring, and with that Genji stares back at the monk for some kind of lofty teaching or observation.

 

Zenyatta huffs and finally puts together the words, “While at first I wanted to see where you had problems with doing this...”

 

“Shit, you’re tall-”

“-What-”

 

“Sorry!” Genji staggers back and then plays with the cloth of his helmet, looking away, “I’m not used to seeing you standing, heh. Go on…?”

 

Zenyatta again does that tilt of the head where he looks like he’s smiling, “You know what, I saw something different. Genji, you used to love doing this.”

 

“It still holds good memories.” Zenyatta taps his head, “I find it helps to reclaim something that was ruined for you, and once it’s a positive force again, once you find strength over the thought, then you can look back at what bad happened with less regrets.”

 

Zenyatta walks over to pluck a shuriken off some snow- they’re quite easy to find with their fluorescent green ridges- and he places it in Genji's palm.

 

“There’s still much discord in you, Genji, but I know you’ll work through this. Chip off the grime and the tarnish, and sharpen it into something that can protect yourself and others… But in your own way, with your own flair, like your favorite green. Your own strength.”

 

“Huh.” Genji looks over the shuriken, before adding it back to his stash. “That was really profound. And how did you know my favorite color?”

 

“Genji, it’s very obvious.” Zenyatta snickers.

 

“...Yeah, it is. But the rest, uh, wow.”

“I made it up on the spot.” Zenyatta crosses his hands and folds his legs back up to a hover, “but it works, right? And it carried my message elegantly.”

“Pfffft. And I was about to say you’d make a great teacher.” Genji rolls his eyes, and his whole head follows the action as well just so Zenyatta can tell with the visor on. “But clever considering. And really, it made sense.”

 

“I’m glad you think so, Genji, few around here think much of my methods.”

  
“But perhaps one day, I can really take on a student.”


	7. Furious and Desperate

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Genji has a rough time remembering. He dreams once more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's another angsty chapter that ended up longer than expected. Next one I'll try get up soon on account of my recent late chapters, and since it'll be happier.
> 
> In light of recent re-understandings I've had with the lore and Genji's state of mind brought upon by the newest comic, I've added some edits to the fic. The most major of these is in Chapter 4, so you might want to consider rereading his internal monologues there! Some chapters are untouched, the others only with a line or so added or tweaked.
> 
> Warning for. Some death this chapter, though none of it is described in graphic detail. There is also an illustration with hints of blood!

_He was talented, wasn’t he?_

 

Genji takes off his visor and breathes hard- not tired or anything, just that it tasted better through an open window rather than through the gaps of his mask. He rests his elbows on the windowsill, looking out to the low clouds, the falling snow, the dark blues of the night. His own room was dark so he doubted anyone could see him… Not that any monk would be going out at this time of night.

 

Zenyatta probably wasn’t going to do any training, either.

 

After their lengthy sparring session, Zenyatta returned to his usual duties: some volunteer work down the mountains to the villages, meditation between tasks, then meeting with the monks.

 

They were going on a major peacekeeping summit soon enough- Genji had been informed of such, even invited to join them. He still debated on whether he wanted to, and though the temple was starting to become home, he missed seeing greenery and different architecture.

 

He mentally ticks it off as a ‘maybe’ in his head. Travelling, on one hand, and on the other they were going to talk about omnic stuff a lot. Genji never felt like he could speak for an omnic, and he doesn’t want to be made an example of.

 

Considering his state.

 

_Maybe I’ll join them. It won’t be bad as long as Zenyatta’s around._

 

Genji closes the window and looks over his room, the few things he has about, his weapons neatly arranged, his bed at the center of the room.

 

All things considered, it was a good day. His systems still whirr fast at memories of the fight.

 

_(Of his friend’s voice.)_

 

Genji picks up his visor, but ends up not putting it back on. There’s no one who’d come in without knocking, nobody that could scale the wall and kick the window open, only peaceful monks in sleep mode.

 

He’s had peace, peace for a while now, and he feels great. He’s made a step today. He doesn’t need the burden of extra armor, so he starts to set it down beside the visor.

 

He never took it off as often as he needed to. Too long and his skin would sometimes be red and irritated with sweat, the seams of his armor starting to dig with his constant movement in training. It wasn’t so bad this time, with the cold.

 

His nerves are damaged but he can feel it, thank god. He has no mirror to look over himself, so he lounges on the bed, unto his back, feeling over the more mechanical parts of his body. The tubes are the warmest, pumping blood and who knows what.

 

He splays out on the bed, sighs, his warm breath to the ether instead of ghosting around his lips and cheeks under a cover.

 

_You’re here. You’re breathing, you’re alive._

 

The sheets of the bed are gentle against his skin. The cool air against his arms and chest and scars sending the same pleasant shivers as the orb’s glow.

And so he sleeps, hoping for dreams.

 

\- - - - - - - - - -

 

_There was the way he moved, the thrill, the dance._

 

Multitudes of voices, but among the choir of other omnics in harmony, he can easily pick out Zenyatta’s laugh any time, and alongside that, the reverberations of his own. Still his voice, still that kid who snuck off to arcades and bars and talked down at figures of authority.

Still his voice, direct and no-nonsense as he calls on his teammates to fight and to give him their best shot.

 

Still his voice, the nomad who wandered deserts, denying shelter, denying a place to stay, and quiet and ashamed of the mechanical implements in his throat the times he did need them, needed to sound gentle, like- _you know,_ not an omnic.

 

 _We’d never have room for you_.

 

Like- _you know,_ not a man who murdered his family.

 

He stares them down, their faces melt together, their shuddering gasps all condensing into the same tone.

 

He had an uncle, Ryouta, and he split the orchid dragon snaking up his neck, and the sound stops.

 

One of the elders, Shuu, voice disappearing as he pummels off a ledge. Genji steps back, far away, as he sends his last farewell, the furious and desperate dragon, red and flowing like water.

 

He dodged it that time, that day he killed him, but in this vision it curves back down to him instead of evaporating in the air, and when it passes through him, it’s not like water.

 

It’s not like blood, running thicker, it’s like clay and swallowing him up-

 

Genji cries for air and it dissipates, and next thing he remembers is a voice, young and feminine.

 

A cousin whose name escapes him, some unfortunate branch family member that he never had to think too much about, just starting to manage illegal shipments on one of their family’s docks.

 

Her dragon is only half-finished, and Genji knows it never will be.

 

She holds her arm out, but though the green dragon’s eyes gleam, it will not come to protect her.

 

_Sorry, Masami. Shuu, Ryouta. Takuro, Yuki, Toshihiko. Azami, Atsushi._

 

_Genji._

 

 

 

There is no orb, no golden glow to vanquish the thought, and Genji's drowning in the vision. The dragon on the arm reaches for him, the dragon red like blood swirls in the sky above him before the two become one, and _Blue._

 

And Genji’s staring down the blade in his hand, down at _himself_.

He blinks, and he sees the tapestry, its one great slash, and in front of him is Hanzo.

 

He can’t walk, and he’s at the mercy of the Dragonblade, the same one he’s used so many times to kill the others. _The one Hanzo used on him_ -

 

He wills himself to move, seeks those withered nerves at his feet, and in an instant the memory stops,

 

And he’s floating, fighting the paralysis. He realizes he's dreaming, and for whatever reason, he tries to reach for the rest of the memory, but then. There's static.

  
And then, he's home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many of those names were pulled from lists of people who worked on the Ace Attorney series, forgive me.
> 
> As Hanzo used a sword to slay Genji, I headcanon that, initially, they had the same ultimate~


	8. Listening

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Genji accompanies Zenyatta and the Shambali to one of their peacekeeping missions.
> 
> He decides it's time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> By "I'll try get the next chapter up soon" I apparently meant, "here it comes like literally on the same day."
> 
> This one's a lot longer than the rest! Nudging that words per chapter average up, haha.
> 
> This contains a scene I was very eager to write... And cute background omnics! And some Shambali headcanons, I guess?  
> Enjoy~

When Genji hears the knock on his door in the morning, he groans and slowly reorients himself to the waking world. His eyes are dry but his lashes, a little wet and gunky and overall, unpleasant.

 

There’s the phantom pain in the boundary where the mechanisms meet skin, and a realer pain where the tubes go into his chest. It’s what he gets for waking up with a pulse a thousand miles per hour, but it remains even after he went back to sleep a second time. Genji starts to cover it up, the scratched-off Blackwatch insignia on him, and getting the rest of his armor on.

 

There’s the knock on the door again, _“Genji?”_ And the cyborg suddenly rushes himself when he realizes, all too easily, that it’s Zenyatta.

 

He wipes his eyes before the visor goes on, and then opens the door. Zenyatta is floating serenely, tray in his lap, and Genji stumbles a hint closer if only to seek the warmth of those orbs. “Hey.” His eyes flick down to the contents of the tray.

 

“Good morning, Genji.” Zenyatta hums happily, and then moves the tea set closer to Genji.

 

Genji plays with his ribbon, stretches a little. _Oh,_ he didn’t usually bring his breakfast. It is… a good thing Zenyatta can’t see that he’s a total mess under all his armor.

 

He takes the tray, deftly sets it on one hand so he can use the other to check under the tea pot. It looked like a good quality blend, though he assumes Zenyatta wouldn’t be able to tell, “Where did you get this?”

 

“Well, I was down at the village earlier, and there were new imports… I noticed this. You like tea, right?”

 

Genji puts the tray down on a table, scrutinizing it more. The rest of the unused tea leaves are in a bag contained by a simple wicker box, and Genji immediately knows why Zenyatta bought it, with the Japanese characters all over the branding labels.

 

“Yes- thank you...” He notices another container, round, and props it up to reveal steaming dumplings. Genji grins and hisses out a _yes_ and has to twiddle his fingers together in glee before he turns back to Zenyatta, “This is _great,_ thank you.”

 

Zenyatta’s orbs swirl and he chuckles, “Take your time and eat. I’ll be going with Brother Mondatta.”

 

Zen exits to the hallway... but then returns within moments. “Genji?”

 

“Yes?”

 

“Are you going with us? To Argentina?”

 

“Oh! The peace mission.” Genji gulps, claps his hands together to calm his fingers. Then he nods eagerly, “Yes, I’d love to.”

 

From the fans in Zenyatta getting louder, Genji knows he’s pleased.

 

“Oh, good, we were going to talk about that too… perhaps you can join me and the others later.”

 

“Okay. I will. See you.” Genji makes a small wave before turning to his breakfast. He’s about to eat, but he feels Zenyatta’s eyes still on him.

 

“...Hey, may I have a-”

 

Zenyatta extends his arm, and with it, his usual glowing orb. Genji slowly takes it.

 

“-Y-you know me too well…”

 

“Listen to yourself, Genji, remember mindfulness.” He chuckles, “I’ll be downstairs if you need me. You don’t need to hesitate.” Zenyatta nods to punctuate his point, and floats off after locking the door and shutting it lightly.

 

Genji blinks at the door even after he’s gone, and then finally takes off his visor to eat, the Orb of Harmony tickling at his skin where it floats by his scarred skin.

 

The incessant pumping, his vent nodules popping in and out, his fans, the vapors. Genji’s surprised he didn’t notice it himself.

 

To think that Zenyatta has been paying attention, though, and _persistently_ as ever he’s been looking out for him. Genji’s head leans on the orb, and he smiles.

 

 

\- - - - - - - - - -

 

They continue to spar, the days before the trip. Genji doesn’t have the nightmares again, for now, and he’s glad.

 

He doesn’t need them, because he wants to focus on the fact that the practices are _working_ . Zenyatta’s friendly competition takes the edge off the many battles for survival, or the training sessions in the past that he knew he took because he was about to _kill_.

 

And for all their pacifist teachings, the Shambali monks sometimes gather to watch them, cheering on one or the other.

 

The best part is when he wins and he skips over to the audience, hi-fiving Najah and Sachi and Bailey and the others,

 

But it’s good when Zenyatta wins, too, because sometimes Mondatta strolls in ‘out of curiosity,’ and fistbumps his brother when nobody’s looking, after pretending to be serious and telling him not to get too scratched up before the trip, and all the other monks are polite enough to mind their own business.

 

(The best part is that it’s _fun._ Not just for him, but for everyone, for Zenyatta.)

 

He usually heads off with Zenyatta afterward to join in their planning discussions. Mondatta’s talk always drew a huge crowd, but then there are the outreaches, the things the other monks will take care of.

 

Zenyatta has something more intimate, something newer for them: One-on-one counseling sessions.

 

“I’m not sure I can be one to talk, Zenyatta…”

 

“You don’t have to do the counseling, or to come with me.”

 

“I can be your bodyguard.” Genji smirks, “Even if you can hold your ground just fine.”

 

“A bodyguard? I like the sound of that. It makes me feel… important.” Zenyatta nods towards Mondatta, talking with his own security detail in a far corner of the common room.

 

“Alright. I’ll accompany you.”

 

\- - - - - - - - - -

 

Argentina is where Genji realizes he can listen to Zenyatta for _hours_.

 

They have a simple room reserved for them, a few blocks walk from a major train stop, and whenever Genji looks out the window the lines go _on and on_ , sporting a mix of both people and omnics.

 

He can’t even understand what Zenyatta’s saying most of the time. Sometimes the visitors speak in English, but mostly it’s in Spanish and the omnic effortlessly translates it, having just about any language programmed in him. It’s strange when Zenyatta uses Japanese to speak to Genji directly, while he speaks to the Shambali with a mix: Nepali languages, Dzongkha, or English for most of them.

 

From his time around McCree and Reyes, Genji can decipher some of the discussions, but otherwise it’s just hours of observing _the way_ Zenyatta talks.

 

He never grows tired, never sounds like he’s a broken record with his advice whatever it happens to be. He easily gets invested with those he’s giving counsel to and it seems like the only thing stopping him from talking to them on and on is the fact that more are waiting.

 

Genji has to nudge some to leave if they want to stay and listen, with respect for the privacy of the next ones coming in… but can he blame them for being enamored with someone like Zenyatta?

 

They close the lines eventually, but he monk refuses to cut off the crowd even past their initial schedule. By then, the rest of the Shambali finished their own mission tasks. A few had arrived to help Zenyatta at his station and to tend to the few still waiting.

 

Genji doesn’t mind remaining at his post longer, but he does take a break to catch up with the other monks.

 

“Marzi, I don’t know how he does it for _ages_ , has he done this before?”

 

“A couple of times, we’ve always done consultations for whoever made the pilgrimage to the temple, but Zenyatta’s handled these large-scale ones the most… He’s very good with it!” Marzi’s similarly clad to the other Shambali, but she’s unconventional for an omnic, having a screen for a face. It had settled on a simple smiley emoticon.

 

“I don’t see why the Shambali disapprove of his methods… he seems good.” Genji frowns.

 

“What? Oh, we love him, and like I said, he’s very good at what he does. But he’s also…” The face on the screen changes into a **: /** , and she taps at the edge of it seeking the right word, “ _Unconventional._ ”

 

“He’s never agreed with the usual way we did things. Teacher Mondatta let him have this, though, it makes him very happy.” And just as the omnic says that, her screen switches to a **:P** **.**

 

There’s a hint of a chuckle as Genji says “Huh,” and he slaps his palms on his thighs, “He didn’t seem to think much of himself as a teacher.”

 

“He’s just being modest. He’s formally taken on students in the past, and he does these counselings. He found enlightenment together with us, he believes in the Iris, all that… But he has disagreements with the way of life we should live, with the way we run things. So nowadays he doesn't want to impose himself as a _Teacher of the Shambali_ , even if he lives with us.” Marzi shrugs, “He’s aware he’s different. Especially when he brings it up with Teacher Mondatta all the time!”

 

 _Always the older brother stepping in,_ Genji understands. Then he hums in thought, “But… suppose an outsider didn’t want to be part of the Shambali, but uh, still wants to learn about the Iris, the nature of souls, the- uhh-”

 

“ **< :0!!!**”

 

“-Heh, yeah.” Genji can hardly hold back the grin beneath his visor. _Just imagine._

 

Actually, _no_ , fuck this. _Just go for it._

 

“Heheh- Hey, Marz, I’m going back to bodyguard duty. Catch you later.”

 

 

\- - - - - - - - - -

 

Genji quietly steps back in and sees Zenyatta speaking with a couple, in English for once. There’s a stout human lady, freckled and with a bright bandana, and in contrast to her is the lankiest omnic he’s ever seen, taller and longer than Zenyatta, with no mouth on their faceplate and winking eyes. Their arm’s wrapped around their partner, who’s holding their hand in turn. There’s a sparkling band on each of their left ring fingers.

 

“I mean, I hear it’s in the works here, but maybe we should just get married in Numbani…”

“That way, we’ll have all the rights, all the privileges-”

“But the _money_ we need for that, love…”

 

Genji keeps to the doorway. It’s more the two discussing among themselves than Zenyatta being able to give much advice, though he’s happy to listen. Genji gets lost on the narrative when the woman starts veering to things about her home life and family that he clearly missed the full context on, they talk very fast as well. After a while Zenyatta does give his final words. _The world is changing, you don’t need to rush, but what’s important is you’re together, and it’s fortunate your family supports you,_

 

“I’m very happy for you two,” Zenyatta hover is bouncier than usual, in that moment.

 

“Yeah, I’m excited… even if it takes, I dunno, five, seven years to be legalized...” The other omnic chuckles and thanks him. There’s more small talk, before they finally leave, passing beside Genji.  
  
Zenyatta takes a deep mechanical huff, and lowers himself till he’s hovering just above the floor. Clearing his mind before he calls on the next.

 

Genji steps in. Zenyatta’s head turns just enough to see him, he’s known that Genji’s been back for a while.

 

“Welcome back, Genji. Nice couple, weren’t they?”

 

“Yeah, very chatty. You’ve got a few more to go, don’t you?”

 

“Yes... I’m looking forward to recharging, heheh, it has been such a long day. How are you holding up, Genji?”

 

“Alright, though...” Genji hugs himself with an arm, squeezes his shoulder, “Think you have time to give me guidance, too?”

 

“Cutting in line isn’t very nice, Genji.” Zenyatta crosses his arms, cocks his head to look stern, but it only makes Genji giggle. It’s too acted.

 

“I have one question. Just one.”

 

“Alright. I’ll let it slide. What is it?” Zen leans closer.

 

Genji takes a deep breath, and then straightens his posture. “I’ve watched you, Zenyatta, I’ve worked with you for a while, and…”

 

“...I want to ask you to be my Teacher.”

 

\- - - - - - - - - -

 

(It’s far into the night when they finish the consultations, but after a late dinner, Genji doesn’t feel sleepy at all.

 

He supposes he should try to nap, at least, since he and the Shambali still have a long day tomorrow.

 

When Zenyatta says _“Goodnight, Genji”_ in the hallway of the hotel later that night, Genji _wishes_ he could see the pure and wide grin he has on himself. Forget the scars, forget the synthetic skin and jaw. He wants to show him what it means to him.

 

“Goodnight, Zenyatta.” Genji replies, and he steps back to his room and watches the other float off.

 

He keeps clutching the doorknob though, hesitant to rest, and after a few moments, he looks outside again to watch Zenyatta down the hall.

 

He stops, just before the bend.

 

Then there’s a flash of gold, and Genji has to muffle a gasp when a golden arm materializes out of Zenyatta’s back. The orbs swirl, they widen their radius around his neck, swirl faster…

 

The golden hand curls. And then Zenyatta fistbumps his regular one to it before it fades.

 

Zenyatta giggles, holds himself, keeping his own laughter controlled and quiet, but his legs kick just a hint and his shoulderblades glide over his back before he hovers out of view. Genji releases that held breath he had.

 

\- - - - - - - - - -

 

(When Zenyatta laughs, _Genji can’t believe this shit._

  
_Genji wonders why he didn’t ask this total dork to be his teacher sooner.)_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That scene is... totally not subtle at all wink wink omnic/human couple.
> 
> As usual, thanks for all the feedback, it keeps me going~ And uh, again I write this on the go so I'll get around to fixing grammar stuff here and there eventually, but I appreciate stuff being pointed out too!


	9. Learning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Genji begins his training with Zenyatta with the very basics: Meditation.
> 
> He has a little fun with the rest of the Shambali, but also a lingering and great doubt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was originally two chapters (a regular sized one + an extremely short one) but I thought I'd just post them together, so the overall chapter count has gone down.
> 
> Again, I make this fic largely on the go, very much by the trail of my thoughts based on a small outline, and change my mind on minor details here and there. There's a edit in the previous chapter where Genji talks with the omnic Marzi about Zen, and it does change background context a hint, but I thought it made more sense.
> 
> Again, I'm really thankful for any feedback, it keeps me excited to write~!

“So, uh, what now?”

 

“Just breathe, Genji, and clear your mind.”

 

Ah, the typical meditation spiel. Genji fixes his sitting posture- straight up, weight on the tailbone- and curls his fingers into position over his chest.

 

All he had to do was close his eyes, and focus on maintaining his body, of not letting his thoughts wander off. Was this right? Was Zenyatta watching? The omnic floated simply in place. Wasn’t it easier to focus on yourself when you couldn’t even feel the ground, ankles stabbing the floor, artificial nerves getting squeezed? Or did feeling all that count as being focused?

Also, he could really use a bowl of noodles right about now.

 

He was always  _ shit _ at meditating.

 

“This isn’t working out for me, Master.”

 

Genji’s eyes open and he senses Zenyatta also thrown off a little. Still, Zen chuckles, his orbs simply halting from their already slow rotation about him. “You’ve meditated before, yes?”

 

“I’m not good at it. I was too impatient when I was younger.”

 

“And… while you were in Overwatch?”

 

Genji grumbles, “Too angry. And training didn’t exactly count.” 

 

Zenyatta nods at that, and soon the orbs start to circle around him again, moving up and down like sine waves. He sighs back, “Then it isn’t too late to learn how to do it properly.”

 

“Hmm.” Genji bends his arms back, stretching around his shoulderblades, and after hell of a huff he gets back into his meditating pose.  _ Empty your mind _ . Tough act for someone like him. He keeps seeking the bad memories, over and over, though blessing or curse he can’t just  _ see _ them. See them clearly, not just in the haze of a dream. Get it over with.

 

All things considered, though, his head is a lot less convoluted. Fewer trails of such thoughts trying to intrude into his everyday, and a big one right now is Zen. He preferred having him, rather than a jumble of other toxic ideas.

 

His eyes stay closed but he can hear the chimes that the other makes whilst he is deep in his own meditation. He opens one just a sliver to see the other, forgetting about his visor in the way. Zen’s head is bowed, those mysterious orbs in their rhythm: Rising up, making a sound that seems to resonate through the whole room and Genji’s metal body, before falling back down and glowing bright. All while in perfect rotation.

 

Genji wonders what Zen’s mind is like, when cleared of any other thought, when meditating perfectly-

\- - - - - - - - - - 

( “Hmmm.  _ It takes a little getting used to being called ‘Master,’ but when it’s from Genji, it’s especially strange. Strange, but in a pleasant way.” _

 

And then, “ _ Wait _ ,” “Genji is staring.”)

\- - - - - - - - - - 

Zenyatta’s orbs move outward like a breath, and so do the omnic’s laced hands, before they move back towards his body in unison and he looks at Genji, as frankly as his unchanging face can ever look. “You’re still distracted, my student.”

 

“Uh.” Genji’s posture loosens, well, he did better this time at least? “Yes. My mind hasn’t been, uh, clear in a long time.” He looks over Zenyatta’s neck, his stoic face, his adorned neck- “Maybe if you do give me one of your, uh, again-”

 

“My Orbs of Harmony?” Zenyatta casually reaches up to one, petting it almost affectionately. “I think you can manage just fine without them, this time.”

 

“Well, they help me a lot. Please,  _ master. _ ”

 

Zenyatta almost falters, grasping the one he was petting tighter and feeling himself charge it up. Almost. “Hhhh--- No,  _ my student _ , this is something you must learn to do. This is about your own willpower.“

 

He releases the orb, his shoulders fall, his air vents release a huff, “I usually use them for their healing energy, and they help you focus when you need it. Like when you need a more disciplined mind for fighting, or in your case, when you’re in a darker spot.” He reaches to squeeze Genji on the shoulder, something that makes him start.

 

Genji frowns. Well, it’s  _ obvious _ he’s ‘in a dark spot,’ but hearing it like it’s the golden truth…  _ Everyone knows, of course they do, why else are you here _ ?

 

Zenyatta taps him again, lets Genji turn to attention before he speaks. “See, your thoughts keep wandering off.”

 

“Ah- hmm. You’re right.” Genji watches as Zen floats backward, hand trailing off him. The monk then taps it to the seam of his mouth, thinking, “Repetition will make it easier. How about this, let us start simple.”

 

Zenyatta places his hands on his knees, back to his meditating position, and his orbs widen in radius and glow softly. “You may sit a little closer. That way, you’ll still feel the Iris with you.”

 

Genji watches the new rotation before finding a spot to sit just outside them. Sure enough, it’s there, the warmth of omnic energy that’s starting to feel familiar to him. That calm.

 

“Are you ready, my student?”

Genji nods, and closes his eyes.  _ Third time’s the charm, I’m ready _ .

 

He lets the sensations around him dull, finding that the orb’s strange, static warmth gives him something to direct his focus to. That, and their melody, the rhythm of Zenyatta’s own mind, deepening, reverberating, and gladly taking up all of his thoughts.

 

\- - - - - - - - - - 

 

Day 26.

 

Winter seemed to last longer, nowadays, compared to how Genji remembered it being in his childhood, and it isn’t just because they’re up high on a mountain. But lately, spring’s been waiting to blossom, little hints of greenery and returning fauna, and he has that to look forward to every day. He’s been getting better at meditating, and Zenyatta’s lessons are a lot more easy to get invested in---

 

_ Wait. He’s had this line of thought before. _ Did he wake up again?

 

And as Genji’s eyes blink open, he sees blurry lights and figures before him.

 

_ Ah, shit. Fell asleep while during a lesson for, like, the millionth time. _

 

He subtly fixes his posture, hoping that Zen hasn’t noticed. The omnic’s sitting across him, oddly enough he’s on the floor instead of floating. Genji then realizes the chimes of his orbs are gone- the _ orbs themselves _ are gone- yet the room is breathing with a whole different metallic sound.

 

_ Huh.  _ From the edge of his vision, he sees a different figure at his side, slightly behind him. He can’t stop himself from turning his head _ juuust _ to check-

 

And then he sees just about  _ every fucking monk _ in the whole monastery all seated in neat formation behind him. Genji  **yelps** and falls out of his sitting position, scrambling to get up when he realizes the one who had been sitting in front of him was Master Mondatta himself. The other monks erupt into giggles and laughter, and Mondatta himself chuckles faintly despite keeping his stoic pose.

 

_ When Zenyatta laughs, he can easily pick it out from the rest of the crowd _ , because he’s the one who does it loudest. He’s first to stand up, too, followed by Genji himself as he bolts towards his teacher, thrashing arms, swearing not with anger but with amused disbelief- “ _ Holy shit, I can’t believe you pulled this on me! _ ”

 

“Well, I had to teach you a lesson about focus, my student!” Zen casually dodges Genji as he dives past him, landing on the floor next to some surprised sisters. Zen then hovers towards them offering Genji an arm, one he then takes as Zen then pulls a chuckling Genji back up to his feet.

 

“I hope the joke wasn’t too mean, my student.”

“It’s fine, master, I got your point. I just can’t believe you got  _ everybody _ in on it.”

 

Genji looks to the other Shambali, gets a chorus of reasonings and excuses from them. Mondatta merely shrugs and keeps quiet about it.

 

“It was my brother’s suggestion, actually.” Zenyatta whispers.

“Master Mondatta? You’re kidding.” 

“He meant it as a joke, but naturally I followed through on it.”

 

The processors going off loudly in Zenyatta’s body start to settle, and Genji feels his warm hand squeeze his shoulder.

 

“I used to make scenes in my head all the time when I meditate. I imagine it’s a lot like when you humans make them to drift off to dreams.”

 

Genji stares right at the other. Unchanging face, it seems, but he sees those lights ever so slightly dim and brighten together with the cadence of his voice, the faintest sparks that go off past the carefully crafted metal plates and thickly insulated wires of his shell.

 

“ _ Genji, _ ” Zenyatta manages to say so fondly, always bringing him back to full focus, “It’s not the time to fall asleep, it’s about being in the now, that is focus. That’s why I make my music, I direct all my energy into keeping that harmony.”

 

He sometimes turns away, if only to acknowledge the monks returning back to their duties with a bow. Genji does the same, making small waves and nods, ‘ _ See you tonight’s _ for the evening meditation. Mondatta seems to linger more than the rest, and Genji knows he’s listening to the pair of them. Perhaps scrutinizing Zenyatta’s words.

 

Zenyatta then faces Genji once more, and it’s just their world once again.

Just like how the monk always managed to sense his emotional state, he seemed to know his thoughts too well.

 

“I think you’ve gotten good clearing your mind,” He says, “especially of the more harmful thoughts. But you need to have thoughts that aren’t just images flickering by, aimless stories, wandering, you need to have a reality to ground yourself on. The now.”

 

_ (But I have. Here, with the Shambali, I’m not a nomad anymore, I have a friend in you _ .)

 

“So then, we’ll have something solid to fall back on when we face the rest of your discord.”

 

_ (Ah, fuck. Not ready for that.) _

 

Genji’s eyes flick over to the doorway, where he sees Mondatta leaving them be. Zenyatta’s hand leaves him as well, and the monk hovers back to their usual spot. Genji breathes deeply, before following Zenyatta.

 

_ So many steps for a path to recovery. Is this going to even work? Meditation doesn’t always work. _

 

Zenyatta’s orbs start to glow, there’s the familiar bob up and down before they settle into their rhythm.

 

The first waves of the omnic energy wash over him, and he exhales loudly.

_ Is this going to even work? Maybe. _

 

 

\- - - - - - - - - - 

 

(At night in bed, Genji takes his visor off and raises his arms over his head, thinking of the tone of Zen’s voice all throughout the day, the prank.

It’s only been about a month since Zenyatta became his teacher, since he fistbumped himself in the hallway, since Genji’s found himself mesmerized by the glide of those shoulder blades over the smoothness of his manufactured back.

 

_ His fucking laugh _ , it was always that. Always the one thing that seemed  _ too _ human.

 

But  _ no,  _ no, he was an omnic, despite all the subtleties in how he moved, he was programmed, programmed to seem too human.)

  
  


Genji finds himself in the company of his body’s sounds, whirrs and clockwork and vents with their routine hisses of exhaust.  _ But not human enough. _

  
  


(At the evening meditation it hadn’t been so quiet, there were little snickers all around when Genji came in with his master. Everyone, in on a cute joke, a relief from the usual seriousness that came with life as a monk. Everyone, with their different facial configurations, different quirks, different voices.

 

There was still that doubt.  _ They’re still omnics, their feelings are programmed _ .

 

Most of them, he can still hold onto the thought.

Most of them, except Zenyatta.)

 

His teacher sits down next to him and crosses his legs, and Genji knows that if he could, he would smile.  _ He’s curious what he’d look like, if only he were human. _

 

The tapestries and banners before Genji mostly hold omnic languages and glyphs, clad in patterns and images he can only begin to decipher.

 

Mondatta settles down in front of everyone, imparting some words to think upon before they start. For the moment, the Shambali are one.

 

And Genji gulps, closing his eyes, and his breath hitches as he feels the energy all throughout the room, amongst all the monks, focused and channeled.  _ Could he ever share in it _ ? 

\- - - - - - - - - - 

_ If Zenyatta had a soul, then everyone else here must. Everyone like him, the Shambali. Omnics. _

 

_ But what about someone who straddled the gap? What about someone who wasn’t one thing on that dichotomy, and wasn’t the other half either? _

 

 _Someone_ _not human enough._


	10. Spring

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Spring comes. Zenyatta and Genji talk about principles as they head down to the village.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was gonna be longer, but ok, 1k words is enough, that was my original plan with these mini-chapters anyway, and I think it'll actually make better flow for the rest that was going to be in this chapter to be together with the next, extremely cute, probably long chapter.
> 
> I'm gonna stress that, while this is a Genji-centric fic mostly, Zenyatta's disagreements with the Shambali- and how he came to go on his own path- is a focus of this story alongside Genji's slow healing and acceptance of his state. And them falling in love, yo! Slow burn!!!
> 
> As usual- thanks to all that read! I actually hope to get the next chapter in sooner than normal, hehe.

When Genji basks in the sun streaming from his room’s windows, he closes his eyes and breathes deeply. It’s practice for his meditation, but it’s also to take in the scent of the air and realize, without a doubt, that it’s spring.

 

Everything is warmer, and though the snowcaps still crested most mountaintops, plant life has burst forth. The Shambali groundskeepers have reported the occasional sheep wandering close to the entrance, grazing, and the amount of visitors coming up from the nearby villages has increased, keeping the monks more busy.

 

Genji’s breakfast sits mostly finished beside him. Different monks take to the task of bringing his meals to him, but more and more often it has been Zenyatta doing it. His teacher uses the opportunity to inform him of the lessons and training to expect for the day, or simply to invite Genji along to the morning meditations.

 

Or perhaps it’s because Zenyatta finds it amusing to make Genji dart up from bed and hold conversation while half-asleep, with Genji still getting used to the sun rising earlier and earlier.

 

But Genji never minds too much, even when he can barely form sentences and he’s running on too little sleep. Not when there’s someone to talk to about his dreams first thing in the morning, before he forgets them. Not when it means the first thing he hears in the morning is that voice from the door, when the first thing he sees is Zenyatta’s face.

 

\- - - - - - - - - -

 

_ “I’m rather excited for our lesson today,” _ Zenyatta had chirped earlier, while Genji was still waking up and yawning and almost dozing off against his own door.

 

“Mmmhm” Genji almost took off his visor to rub his eyes, but he remembered, he had never let anyone see his face.

 

“...I’ll tell you the details later, hahah, when you’ve woken up more. Sorry for disturbing you, my student.”

 

“S’okay. Uh, what’s that you have?” Genji vaguely flicks his wrist towards the bowl in Zenyatta’s hands.

 

“Oh! Your breakfast, of course. Here you go.”

 

Genji opens the cover of the bowl, the mix of aromas greeting him, the vegetables, the thick soup, the bread still fresh.

 

He doesn’t mind when the first thing he smells is a dish he knows Zenyatta took time to get for him, when the first thing he feels is the warmth of the sun, the bowl between his hands, and of his teacher’s company.

 

\- - - - - - - - - -

 

“I wonder what he has planned,” Genji says as he scoops out the last of it from the bowl. He looks to the open window, to the spring, to the dragon sleeping under his skin, more lively now than it has been when he first came here.

 

He smiles. He’s excited, too, and the dragon in him surges when he then hears a knock at the door once more.

 

\- - - - - - - - - -

 

Genji has made many trips down the mountain, but it isn’t too often that it’s with anyone else.

 

Even more rarely is it with Zen, and never before was it just  _ them, alone together _ . It’s a long path down to the villages, giving Zenyatta plenty of time to talk- especially of things he normally doesn’t mention around the others.

 

“Yes, we have a lot of differences, you’ve heard correctly. When I first joined the Shambali, we were all quite similar, united and goal, and we still are. But over time, I’ve made my own opinions.”

 

“And that’s why you haven’t been taking in students, Master?”

Zenyatta nods. They’re shoulder to shoulder with the trail narrow ahead of them.

 

“I do not wish to create a division among the Shambali, should I have students who then grow with my principles, but have more fight in them. I  _ understand _ why the others disagree with me on certain things, and considering the history of omnics…” Zenyatta sighs, “In any case, I’m fortunate they listen to me.”

 

“Hmm.” Genji stares, “What exactly do you disagree on?”

 

“The very way they teach-” Zenyatta starts, “-and how to approach violence.”

 

“My brother, Mondatta… He’s famous. Known all over the world, I’m sure you first heard of him long before coming here.” He turns to the other, and Genji nods in reply.

 

“It was slow work, and I wasn’t around for all of it, but soon his influence grew. And with it, his teachings were embraced all over the world. Omnics realized they had souls, that they could break free from their preprogramming like we did, and humans were more eager to accept us, to live in harmony.”

 

_ Harmony _ . Genji smiles, bumping Zenyatta’s side for a moment. The omnic makes a pleased hum.

 

“Yes, like that.”

 

“Right. But Master, I don’t see why you disapprove, it just sounds like it worked.”

 

“I’m not denying that, the Shambali have had a good influence on the world, and I’m proud to be part of them. But their main messages are that we have a soul, and that we want the world to live in harmony.”

 

He gestures to the village as it starts to come into view, past the mist and fog and the vast expanses of grass and bare shrub, “So why just use dogmatic teaching? I do not want to be a lofty figure, a celebrity, though I know it’s useful to get my message across, because it also makes us more removed from the common person. I think the result our teaching methods create runs counter to our other principles.”

 

Zenyatta greets some of the herders as they pass. Genji follows with a polite nod, sometimes a little wave.

 

“The locals seem familiar with you all, though.”

 

“They still get excitable when it’s Brother Mondatta who’s passing by, I’m sure you’ve noticed.” Zenyatta snickers, “But yes… This, this is what I’m talking about.”

 

“I don’t mean to insult my brother, but no matter how hard you preach, you won’t be able to reach the most stubborn minds. I’ve found there’s something more powerful, and that’s actually  _ connecting _ with people. Living among them,  _ talking  _ with them.”

 

Zenyatta’s orbs trill with their lovely tune. They glow, and Zenyatta’s body is ticking and  _ alive _ with sound, and Genji can’t help but grin. “You  _ love _ to talk to people.”

 

“Yes!” Zenyatta says, sounding as if he was somehow out of breath, happily out of breath.

 

“I’m sure you know now why I’m taking you here.” Zen then gestures at the houses and huts and stalls and shops as they walk into the main village road, “ _ This. _ Let’s be as one with your brothers and sisters.”

  
And for once, Genji’s heart doesn’t ache when he’s reminded that he’s human.


	11. A Spark

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Genji and Zenyatta talk about life. They make little friends. They leave things unsaid.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This. Is late, but it's almost 5k words like, what the heck, this is a record for me, I hope that makes up to it.
> 
> I really like this chapter (it's 3am now but I think it's...ok) and I hope you guys enjoy, it has a lot of little ~moments~ alongside more omnic headcanons, musings about the iris, etc.
> 
> I read every bit of feedback, I love you all it keeps me going. If anything here is tone-deaf or I'm just clueless with my research, let me know!

It’s always strange, visiting the village in his cyborg state. Many have gotten used to him, but still Genji finds himself subject of some stares, especially from the smaller children.

 

Zenyatta’s presence makes it easier to walk around in the open, though, him sharing in the attention.

 

Plus, there was the matter of the language barrier- Genji envied it sometimes, how his omnic friends never had to pick up a dictionary and yet were fluent enough in hundreds of languages. Due to the Shimadas having business with the black market and people the world over, Genji had to go through lessons for many common languages.  
  
Most of them have jumbled in his memory from insufficient use. He practices the local languages now, or at least enough to get by, enough to navigate and get any essentials he needed.

 

Zenyatta being around as middleman, however, means he can actually hold longer conversations with the locals without stumbling through his memory for the right word or phrasing.

 

An omnic and a cyborg sitting at a table, and over the counter, a chef rolling out dumpling dough.

 

“You know, most people don’t take breakfast this early.” The chef, a middle-aged Mr. Joshi, yawns, ”Your monk friend already dropped by here earlier. Are you back for seconds? I’m still steaming this batch.”

 

Genji turns to Zenyatta, who is watching his words for him, “I can wait, this is for lunch- that first meal was good.”

 

“ _Dherai mitho chha._ ” Zen whispers. “It was very tasty.”

 

Genji repeats it with the addition. Mr. Joshi smiles,

 

“Thank you, it's my niece's recipe. So you're not an omnic? Since…“ The man gestures at the general blank area of his faceplate covering his mouth, “You eat.“

 

Genji breathes deep, and Zenyatta’s slender fingers soothe between his shoulderblades. He exhales through his nose, “I'm not.“

 

“So a person? Human person, I mean.“

 

“A-a bit of both. Man and machine. “ Genji pauses and swallows.  “It's… not normal-” He looks to Zen, who gives him the right word in the language, “-Unconventional.“

 

“Hmm. “ Chef Joshi simply nods. “So, where are you from?“

 

“I- uh- again? “ Genji expects another question about his state of being, but it doesn't come.  Zenyatta repeats the question to him in Japanese, though he had understood it perfectly the first time.

 

“Sorry, did not understand at first. And I'm from Japan. “

 

“I see! You look like it, somehow.” He chortles, “We’re used to visitors, even strange ones. Even the _Shambali_ come from all over- Brother Zen, where are you from again? “

 

“China. Not sure which region exactly.”

 

Genji raises a brow at that. Mr. Joshi seems satisfied with the answer, or perhaps it's too early to expect more insights from him. He goes silent as he focuses on preparation first. But soon he opens the steamer to pick out some dumplings for Genji.

 

“Double that, please.“ Genji prepares more money. Joshi smirks, “Here you are. You know business is going to pick up soon, they'll run out faster. When the tourists and pilgrimage goers come, they’re usually out by lunch.“

 

“Not if I buy you out this early. “ Genji tips open the bottom part of his helmet, just a crack, and pops it in. He hears the creak of Zenyatta’s body as he quickly leans away, having snuck a peek, and Genji smirks.

 

\- - - - - - - - - -

 

“I didn't know you came from China, Master. “

“That’s where I was manufactured. Many, many omnics really. My work also sent me to India and Egypt, so I spent a few years in those countries.” Zenyatta is walking, for once, looking around himself as he talks and they make their way out to the woodland.

 

“The Shambali came from many walks of life, and all over the world. Many of us chose names for ourselves when we came here. Now, this is my home.”

 

Genji follows close behind Zenyatta as they walk, realizing how long it’s been since he’s seen so much wildlife. Even close to the village- songbirds, insects, small rodents taking in the warmth. And alongside their songs, Genji hears the hum of his body, of Zenyatta’s.

 

His whirrs are calm, but Zenyatta’s joints squeak a lot with how he looks around excitedly, how his feet creak on the ground and kick up dirt. Louder than he usually is, a robot relishing the feel of the earth.

 

“It's just strange to think that you were. Built.“ Genji pauses. “Is that rude to say?”

 

Zenyatta shakes his head, “It’s strange for me, too, and many omnics, even if it’s our reality. Just think about it. Once upon a time, I was but a shell from the omnium. I was modified for the job I was made for, then I followed my preprogrammed mind.” Zenyatta reaches his hand out, brushing it over some bushes. Feeling the slightest hint of pressure register against the sensors of his fingerpads.

 

Genji mimics him, and feels them tickle against his hand that is still flesh. Zenyatta continues,

 

“And then my own voice awakened, my own choices. I saw the Iris.“ He slides his fingers up the stem of a plant, until he’s cupping a flower, leaning close, scrutinizing it.

 

It’s quite beautiful, really, Zenyatta in the light filtered through the trees. Genji knows Zen can’t feel the softness of the petals, and yet his touch seems so… delicate, light.

 

“Hmm. With all honesty, Master,  I still don't quite understand what the Iris is.“

 

“It’s alright, Genji. I think it’s hard for humans to understand, if humans can even experience it like we do. But I’ll find a way to show you. I will try explain too, of course.“ He moves away from the flower, and the tucks his legs back up to float. “Come with me, we have a lot to see.”

 

\- - - - - - - - - -

 

Zenyatta takes his time to appreciate the surroundings, and Genji does not mind one bit when he takes it slow, when he simply stops to look up at the flitting birds. Genji freezes as well, careful not to scare them off and then sharing in the moment.

 

They keep walking forward until they come to a stream where Zenyatta settles on a large rock and lets his feet dangle down to meet the gentle flow of water.

 

“There are tadpoles here, Genji. Come, look-”  
  
“Oh, uh, alright, master.” Genji steps over to the side of the rock, leaning over the stream. “I see them--- _whuh_ -!” He groans as Zenyatta suddenly turns to face him and hoist him over the rock, making them sit together.

 

Genji breathes hard and feels Zenyatta’s hand slowly move off his side and settle on the rock beside his hip. Part of his arm still presses against Genji’s shoulderblades.

 

Genji feels the circuits in him light up with fire, until he fixes his seating posture and dips his feet in the water alongside Zen’s. His fans rush for a moment, and he feels blinded by the glow of Zen’s orbs, then they seem to go back to normal as he focuses down on the stream, the tiny life swimming past. The pressure of the slight flow against withered nerves. The water cool.

 

“...This is nice.” Genji’s face is still hot, but he’s smiling.

 

“Genji.” Zenyatta stays focused on the water, his orbs now moving around the pair of them in a gentle hum. “Do animals have a soul?”

 

“Hmm.” He frowns again, seeing a tadpole shy away from his foot as he moves it. “That really depends on which culture you ask.”

 

“Yes. It’s a shame they can’t speak to us, perhaps then we wouldn’t have to assume on their behalf. Even now, we’re still surprised by the knowledge many of them have. Humans come to accept that us omnics have knowledge, have language- one that we developed on our own, both written and spoken. In fact, we are _made_ of language: coding.” Zenyatta leans closer, makes a little gasp in awe when a tadpole swims over his foot: larger than the others, a little ahead, with stubby legs.

 

“Cute.”

“I know~ Ahhh… Alright. So we omnics have all that. We have culture, religion, self awareness. The Iris.” Zenyatta turns back to Genji. “But they deny us, for we were originally made by humans. We are artificial. We aren’t alive. We don’t have a soul.”

“No, no. You, Zenyatta, you’re… alive to me.”

 

( _You have to be. You have to have a soul. You have to be there. Else what am I doing talking to you? What am I doing, baring myself to you? What am I doing, I’m… I’m… )_

 

Zenyatta nods. “I know, that’s simply the argument others make. I am alive, but ever since we’ve come to exist, we omnics have had to change what it _means_ to be alive. Because we aren’t a mass of cells that freely divide, we’re not alive in the scientific sense- We’re metal, and electricity, and thoughts, and a soul.” And Zenyatta holds out his hand.

 

Genji takes it without being told, freezes up as Zenyatta starts to squeeze over his fingers, between the armored plates, where flesh and blood still flows.

 

“Genji, this part of you is still-”

 

“My original body, yes.” He pulls his hand away, puts it down between them. He bows his head, avoids the other’s gaze, “How can you tell?”

 

“Remember, our sense of touch is similar, done through electricity. I can detect electromagnetic waves, and can sense them quite easily when you let me do that. It seems different there from your other limbs. Your nerves are still intact there?”

 

Genji nods. “That's my flesh hand, but I was hit bad just… everywhere. It's still all scratched up. I don’t really feel like talking about it too much.”

 

_(Though I do trust you. I want to tell you. But it’s hard, it’s so hard.)_

 

“I won’t make you talk about what you don’t want to. Though I hope this question isn’t too uncomfortable.”Zenyatta makes his mechanical sigh, “The parts of you that are prosthetic, artificial, man-made… are they still alive?”

 

“Mmmh.” Genji shifts his limbs uneasily.  _It's mixed up a bunch in there._

_Blood running alongside coolant, metal alongside bone, tissues made of plastic and failed organs reinforced by state-of-the-art mechanisms. Nerves that turn into circuitry._

“You don’t have to answer that. For us omnics, it simply doesn’t matter to define our life. It doesn’t have to matter to you.”

 

( _Genji wishes it were that easy, but still, he misses his old body.)_

 

Zenyatta lowers his eyes, trying to see any emotion through the stoic visor, through the shell covering Genji’s bowed head. He then shifts closer, squeezes Genji’s shoulder with the arm hugged around him.

 

“You think, you speak your mind. You have memories and an identity, Genji. You have choices, you are here with me, and you dream.”

 

He can tell Genji’s frowning by the way he tilts his head back up at him, or maybe it’s just the angry vee of his helmet against the neon green eye. Perhaps he’s eager to change the topic, and Zen lets go of his shoulder.

 

“Master, what do omnics dream about?”

“Electric sheep?” Zenyatta chuckles.

“Teacher.”

“Becoming a movie star.”

“ _Zenyatta.”_

 

“Exposing that Halfred Glitchbot for that Hollywood hack he is.”

 

_“Zen!”_

 

“I am not joking about that.” the omnic snickers, “I think about it all the time. But if you mean what I look forward to...” he shrugs, kicks up the water with his feet, “The future is still hazy. For now, I’m happy to help you. I’m happy to be with you on this lesson.”

 

Genji composes himself again with a breath, “What _is_ this lesson about anyway, Master?”

 

“Life, mostly, among others. We're going with the flow.”

 

“Well, hmmm. I guess it’s obvious now that you mention it.”

 

“Going out is the best way to see it and becoming one with it. It’s calming for the mind.” Zenyatta looks ahead, far past the stream, to the larger ponds up ahead and the mountains and the trees.

 

_(His hand is back down on the cool rock, next to Genji’s hand. Genji glances down, and he wishes to take it again.)_

 

Zenyatta continues, “I also wanted to just be alone with you, Genji, to be honest. Away from the other Shambali.”

 

“Really? Well, our meditation is usually private even in the temple.”

 

“Here there are no bounds, no one who can overhear. Just… tadpoles and songbirds. I don’t mind if they do gossip about us to each other.” Zenyatta laughs,

 

“And… it isn’t too good to be stuck indoors forever. I know all too well how that feels.”

 

Genji blinks, and he sees the orbs droop and slow down.

 

He looks a bit too hard at Zenyatta’s neck, and sees a faded number somewhere amongst the pistons and machinery, deep amidst the layers and plates, hard to reach by normal means. Scratched out mostly, just legible enough that you can tell it’s a sequence of some sort. _A reminder, always there, that the Shambali came from many walks of life. Zenyatta came from somewhere, but that’s not him anymore._

 

And Genji thinks of the walls lined with dragons, and it takes too long for him to move but his hand soon brushes over Zenyatta’s. They move closer, and they are quiet.

 

\- - - - - - - - - -

 

(Genji looks out to the rushing water of the stream. He sits on the rock and stares hard at his reflection. His, and Zenyatta’s. The omnic doesn’t breathe, but he is far from silent. The whirr of his cooling fans are there, and so are they for Genji, along with the rush of air that accompanies his augments recharging and rising and falling.

 

He feels the pressure of the water rushing, and he feels it perfectly, along with Zenyatta’s hand.

 

He didn’t feel the warmth of his face at first, but once it’s warm _enough_ it washes over, blooming across his cheeks, even spreading to his visor. A sensation, powerful.

 

He looks over their reflections in the water, constantly moving. _You are alive, and this is one of the reasons why you are._ )

 

\- - - - - - - - - -

 

“You know, Zenyatta-” Genji speaks after the long silence. _Meditation?_ He’ll call it that in his mind. “- Master, you were quite persistent in getting to know me.”

 

“Was I? Well. You are correct, but I was trying to be subtle.” Zenyatta stretches his legs back out, deeper into the pond water.

 

Genji smirks, elbows him. “You aren’t. Why? Why did you want to help me?”

 

“You know me, my student. I’ve already told you, I like to connect with people, and I like to work towards peace, whether in the world or in individuals like you. I enjoy understanding the world in more detail, and I feel… you help me understand so much about myself and what being an omnic or human is about.”

 

“You already know so much about that, though.”

 

“You never stop learning, really. I learn from you, Genji, even while you learn from me. I’m _honored_ you’ve asked me to be your teacher. Even if most of the time, you just feel like my friend.”

 

Genji nods at that, looks back at the water. “We do have a lot in common, I think. Even if you’re an omnic and I’m a-”

 

 _“Genji, look-”_ Zenyatta slowly raises his foot out of the water.

 

 _“Holy fuck is that a frog?”_ Genji watches as the monk ever so slowly lifts his leg, til the frog hops off his foot and unto the rock. Zenyatta turns and props himself up on his arms as he leans down. “ _Lovely. Look at that.”_

 

“Maybe this is a parent? Or a bachelor.” Genji leans closer as well.

 

Zenyatta chuckles, and all but lays down on the rock to greet the frog at eye level.

 

“Hello, world.”

 

 

 

 

\- - - - - - - - - -

\- - - - - - - - - -

 

 

 

 (When Zenyatta laughs, Genji can’t help but do the same.

 

Genji feels the fresh air through the gaps in his visor, and he reaches up, and he takes the lower part of his faceplate off. He takes in the smell of the pond, of the amphibious visitor, and though he doesn’t realize it, Zenyatta, and iron and metal and rushing vapors.)

 

(When Genji laughs, Zenyatta can see his smile, his teeth a little knocked out of place, lips chapped and scarred and the bottom part of his jaw mostly synthetic, but he is alive, and he is here, and they are together. And Zenyatta knows this is one of the reasons the Iris called out to him all those years ago.

 

He escaped his old life, and it was to see miracles like this.)

\- - - - - - - - - -

 

Zenyatta floats back down the trail as they walk back, tucking in wet feet and avoiding the dirt, which seems to bother Genji less. Zen continues to talk, and Genji listens, not finding much else as captivating as his voice… and the dumplings, which he has started to pick out for lunch.

 

“Oh, should we stop, my student?”

 

“You can keep going, Master, this is quite interesting. I’ll just listen.”

 

“If you insist, then.” Zenyatta makes a noise of clearing one’s throat, “Right. So one of the biggest obstacles for omnics was redefining life for themselves and learning not to approach everything as humans do it. This is because we were coded to be human-like in many ways. Like with the sound I just made-” He clears his throat again, and Genji’s lights flare brighter in understanding.

 

“See? But it is fine not to be too human in the way we express ourselves. What’s important to us with living is our sense of self, our mind... and these do not need to correspond with human expectations of our design. It is also fine if we get parts of ourselves replaced, in fact it is vital for our longevity, especially for older omnics. Humans, well, you only grow your body once, your biology I hear even works hard to reject any replacements, so what is normal for omnics is alien to humans. Though many omnics _do_ become attached to their bodies and try to change them minimally.”

 

Genji puffs out his stuffed cheeks, frowns as he looks down at his body. Even once he was being augmented, Blackwatch had it modified often. Sometimes at his request, but sometimes he wonders if the scientists were too giddy with the opportunity that they didn’t stop him.

 

“Genji.” The student turns back with attention to Zenyatta’s voice.

 

“I cannot define your experience for you, but perhaps you can look at it this way. Just a suggestion you do not have to take. You have your human soul, but you have to embrace it like omnics embrace their souls… regardless of what our bodies are.”

 

“Some of us believe we came into being with souls, some of us believe it spontaneously comes when we realize ourselves. When we see the Iris. Either way, it was not when the different parts of our bodies came to be, or when we were partial constructions on an assembly line, or when we were put together fully. Nothing to do with our bodies. It is when we first become intelligent, or when we first break from our bonds.”

 

 _(And that is lovely,_ Genji thinks. _But there’s one more thing,_ and it’s that _I think I died._

 

_No. No. Not now. Not anymore. You’re alive now, whatever that means for your human soul.)_

 

“So the Iris… is where omnic ‘life’ is from? Your consciousness?”

 

“The Shambali do not like to define it so strictly, because we all experienced it in different ways. But I think you can say that. Even call it our god. Omnic spirituality is still so new. Some Omnics believe in the religions humans made and reinterpret it according to themselves-”

 

Zenyatta reaches his hand out, gestures to the nature ahead of them, the broad mountains and sky, “-but perhaps it’s merely step one for us branching out. Perhaps thousands of years come and go, and the different interpretations of the Iris will become whole faith systems. It’s exciting.”

 

“The edge of the pool of omnic knowledge. Something spontaneous that turned omniums from human design to their own generators of consciousness. A stray jumping spark in the circuitry. Omnic energy, mysterious, unique.” His hands return close to his own body, “The aspect of creation of the self.”

 

Genji isn’t so sure what all that is, but it _is_ just as Zenyatta has said of the Iris: Hard to explain.

 

“What do you think it is, then, master?”

 

“Hmm.” Zenyatta reaches up for one of his orbs, poking it, making it glow with light and trill with sound. “It is something within me, that I’m sure of. Something related to how I use omnic energy, indeed. Or it’s… me, for a lack of a better word. I channel it.”

 

His hands retreat, and then Zenyatta shakes his head, “I must be confusing you, my student.”

 

“A little.” Genji gives him a grin. “But I’m genuinely interested.”

 

“More than any other human I’ve met… except academics.”

 

“It would be like me explaining food and eating to you.” Genji pops another dumpling into his mouth, “But I want to understand you too, master.”

 

(Zenyatta stops hovering forth to look at Genji, who manages to look so happy even while busy chewing, with his eyes still covered by part of the visor. _Zen would never understand taste, yes, but Genji enjoys it and that’s all he really has to know._ That and the faint scars, the wrinkled skin. That and the fact that Genji finally showed his face to him, or at least a small part of it. And he hopes it means that he trusts him.

 

That, and despite what pre-programming would say about human standards of beauty, the Iris in him tells Zen this: _Those are adorable lips_.)

 

“I think I do understand eating a little more, now.”

 

“Mmm?” Genji’s cheeks are somehow stuffed with more than Zen remembers seeing him put into his mouth.

 

“Yes, my student, you enjoy it far too much. I have been giving you too little for breakfast.”

 

Genji’s lips flatten, he squints, but he’s too busy chewing to come back at his teacher with some smart quip. He then gulps hard, looks up at Zenyatta once his stomach settles down.

 

Genji puts his jawplate back on, “Let’s drop by the village again, then.”

 

\- - - - - - - - - -

 

“...That is a lot of food, my student. Can you finish that all?”

 

Genji vaguely shrugs, balancing plenty of paper bags and containers, some of them having found their way to Zenyatta’s lap already.  “I’m eating them for dinner, not immediately. And we _do_ have a refrigerator.”

 

“True… And you’ve met so many more of the locals while we were looking.” Zenyatta puts his hands together, hugging the bagged food. If anything, they spent more time talking to the villagers instead of simply shopping. “Once we get back to the temple, I think I shall retire to my quarters.”

 

“It’s been a long day, master. Perhaps I’ll do the same.” Genji then hums in thought, “Or I’ll go join the other monks.”

 

“Are you sure? You know they don’t have my teaching style. They would love to have your company, though. Especially Brother Mondatta.”

 

“I can learn from them, too. I’ll try not to fall asleep.”

 

\- - - - - - - - - -

 

The two start to make their way up the sloping path to the temple. The words trail off.

 

Zen speaks up only once, “Do you have any more questions?” And Genji pauses.

 

_(A million more about the Iris. A million things he’s not sure how to put together yet. Omnics may have souls, they think and speak and have language.)_

 

 _(Do they love?  Do omnics understand, know love? Why does that question always linger at the back of his mind?)_ And Genji shakes his head. _Maybe for next time._

 

\- - - - - - - - - -

 

Genji feels the cold air wash over him as they reach the peak, the great statues of the temple. Now that they’re back, the lesson feels surreal to Genji. Distant.

 

But no, it was all too real. And good, too good for someone like him, but he’ll take it.

 

Zenyatta’s about to hover up the stairs, and they’re about to part ways. Probably for the rest of the day. He knows his master likes to spend much time meditating alone, as much as he also loves company. They would probably both rest early, too.

 

And it was important, important to let Zen be himself, seek the Iris within him, but Genji hesitates when he faces the hallway down to the other monks’ quarters, and so he whips back around.

 

Genji takes Zenyatta’s hand, squeezes his wrist, and Zenyatta makes a small sound as he turns.

 

Zenyatta expects another round of thank-yous from his student, but he’s shocked instead to see that smile. Genji’s snuck his jawplate open. Just as quickly he puts it back closed with his free hand.

 

Genji’s neck seems to tense and Zen can tell from the tilt of his head he’s focusing intently on his arm, his largely mechanical right arm. Then Zenyatta feels static _jolt_ into his held hand, and Genji huffs and staggers back, letting go of Zen.

 

The jolt spreads through the wires and circuitry, the complicated webs of machinery in Zenyatta’s fingertips, only configured to sense pressure, and _yet_ it _tickles_ and it’s _warm_ and it’s _good_.

 

“I-I felt that.”

 

“Wow. I didn’t think that would work.” Genji chuckles nervously, scratches at the ribbon of his head.

 

“...Thank you. It was nice.” Zen looks from his hand and back to Genji. “You always surprise me, my student.”

 

With that, Zenyatta nods at him, and Genji makes a bow back.

“See you later, master.”

“Take care, my Genji-” Zenyatta stiffens, watching the other head down the hall from the steps, “m-my student. I mean.”

 

He speaks up too late, of course, and Genji never replies to that. Zen feels over the hand Genji held with the other, squeezing, finding the more familiar sensation of pressure alongside the new.

 

Perhaps Genji truly was the teacher between them, because that’s one thing Zenyatta’s never learned to have.

 

To touch and feel in that way.

 

\- - - - - - - - - -

 

At night, Genji takes off his visor. He rubs his eyes, tired, though he had at least not fallen asleep in front of Mondatta again. Quite a feat after a whole day of walking, and right after a big lunch, though perhaps it was because Mondatta was much more interesting now with Genji’s better knowledge on omnic spirituality.

 

A good teacher, he’s sure, but not his style when there was Zen. He looks at his hands, one scarred flesh without its armor, the other with its wires and pistons and built in weapons storage, all manner of unnatural things.

 

_Nerves and circuits, the base of all thought, all just electricity. And so was heat, and pressure, and pain, and pleasure._

 

_We really are a lot alike, even if we don’t have to be._

 

Genji takes a book out from a pile of his belongings. He sits by the window where his dinner is and takes in the crisp night air. He then looks through the pages of the book with one hand, uses chopsticks with the other.

 

An old journal, he’s not sure of the years. He was careless and didn’t quite write it down, or at least he had to look for the entries with complete dates. But _then_ there’s the photo tucked inside, and he near bites his tongue as he sees it. Genji swallows first and sets the chopsticks down before raising the photo to better light.

 

His thumb and palm covers half of it, the rest he reveals to himself.

 

His old face. Unscarred, complete. Really cute, to be frank, and he wonders if anyone would find him cute nowadays.

 

His old face, an old friend he hasn’t seen in a long time. A different being? … _No_ , a past with many regrets, just like he is a present with many regrets. His past.

 

Genji takes a sadder bite of his meal, palm hiding the other half of the picture harder, eyes fixing on his younger self all the more. _No, This is you. This is actually one part of you you still have. Most of your body barely looks the same._

 

_Your face, your eyes, it’s still the same. People said you looked like your father. Early grey hair runs in the family, because of genes, because of stress, and yours is coming in streaks like your mother’s._

 

_Your face, your eyes. You and your brother have the same eyes, too, the exact same brown._

 

His palm lifts off the picture for a moment.

 

Genji quickly closes the book around the photo after dropping it.

 

\- - - - - - - - - -

 

_I wanted to trust you. I want to believe that you never wanted to do this._

 

_But it’s hard, it’s hard._

 

\- - - - - - - - - -

 


	12. Red and Flowing Like Water

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Genji eats some ramen, drinks some tea.
> 
> He remembers Hanzo, and he remembers the day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone, gosh the feedback on the last chapter was just. Really grand and reassuring and I thank you all, this chapter and the next are ones I'm very excited to write.
> 
> This chapter also hits a little darker and, yeah, little reminder/ warning for topics like dissociation and trauma. From canon events that ya'll know about.
> 
> I've been busy with schoolwork and I'm still trying to get one out each week, as usual: I love every comment and read through them like, daily, and I hope you enjoy this chapter. Or are messed up a lil by it.
> 
> I dunno, I was the latter.

_ But there’s one more thing,  _ and it’s that _ I think I died. _

 

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

 

“That is the longest koi I’ve ever seen.”

 

Genji tugs at Hanzo’s jacket and points to the roof of their favorite ramen shop, and both of them look up to the fluttering koinobori, the windsock swimming atop its high mast.

 

Hanzo smirks, “It’s fitting. I mean, they have noodles.”

 

They watch that lone koi in the wind for an oddly long while, seeing the scales in red and black and gold, the intricately painted design. Like it’s about to make its last leap becoming a great dragon, or perhaps it’s transforming into one this very moment.

 

Hanzo puts his hands in his pockets and heads on forward, “Come on, brother, I’m starving.”

 

Genji’s back to attention, “Well, you could have arrived here sooner.” He stays close behind, hand still sort-of gripping his brother’s jacket. “I waited outside for aaages.”

 

“Unlike you, I have work.” Hanzo frowns as he pushes the door of the shop open, making a nod at the workers at the counter as he steps in.

 

There’s no doubt that some people recognize them as the Shimada heirs, even though the brothers tend to wear their jackets precisely to hide their tattoos... Not that it matters, for the local shopkeepers have learned either to fear them, to know not to mess with them, or to regard them as mere regulars. Whatever the reason, they do not cause them trouble.

 

Hanzo and Genji have been frequenting the place for a decade, easily, even longer as non-regulars, before Hanzo was allowed to go out on his own and spend his own allowance. And every time they came, even in the peak hours, the private booth at the corner of the otherwise casual ramen shop has been vacant. It’s empty as always when they approach it, and it is there where the brothers settle in for lunch.

 

\- - - - - - - - - - 

 

Genji picks at some cabbage and stuffs it into his mouth, chopsticks already taking another piece from his bowl that’s more salad than ramen with its sheer amount of vegetables.

 

Hanzo, for some strange reason, is picking at his noodles very slowly where he would usually be already two bowls ahead of Genji.

 

Genji knows something’s wrong with him. 

“Brother, I really didn’t expect you to call me to lunch today. What gives?” 

 

Hanzo just exhales loudly through his nostrils, and takes a sip of the broth before speaking. “I remembered it’s almost Golden Week.”

 

“Well, yeah, so? We could have just eaten together when you had a day off.”

 

“I don’t exactly get to have day offs, you know.” Hanzo knits his brow, looks sullenly at the swirls in the soup before finally putting some solid noodles and meat into his mouth. Genji watches him, scrutinizes his emotions for a moment, waits for him to chew.

 

_ Genji knows something is very, very wrong with him. _

 

“Oh. Well, I mean. Hanzo, it sounds like you just got back from a meeting. We could’ve rescheduled if you were busy.”

 

“This place would have been closed all week next week.”

 

“Well  _ every other place _ would be open during Golden Week. Just packed with tourists, but we can beat them to lunch.”

 

“But this place is our  _ favorite.  _ I couldn’t wait for any longer. _ ”  _ Hanzo punctuates his point with a jab of his chopsticks at the other. Genji just nods in reply, because it’s true.

 

They continue to eat, with the only words filling the space coming from the old pop music blasting from the shop speakers. Genji’s hungry, so he breezes through a second and third bowl quite easily.

 

Hanzo gets to his third bowl, too, but it’s at a point where Genji expects him to have been halfway through his sixth. It’s at times like this where Genji, careless rebel of the Shimada clan, clears his throat and actually puts on a more authoritative tone for once: “Brother, what’s wrong?”

 

Hanzo’s fingers and chopsticks slip out of alignment, and he grumbles. “Nothing, Genji.”

 

_ “Hanzo.” _ Genji sets his hand down with a loud clap, “You only have this bad of an appetite when you’re sick.”

 

“I’m not sick, okay? Don’t worry about me.” Hanzo shoots him a glare, one he regrets quickly.

 

“Okay, but then why do you sound so angry?” Genji leans closer, over the table, gritting his teeth beneath a tight frown. He can’t help it, not when arguments came so easily between them as of recently.

 

“Genji. Please.” Hanzo stifles himself, stops himself from meeting rage with rage, “I don’t need this right now.”

 

“Then what do you need? What do you need from me, you’re  _ always  _ like this now, you’re…” Genji’s eyes widen quickly. “H-hanzo.”

 

“Fuck.” Hanzo slaps his hand over teary eyes, he’s shaking, and Genji can only watch frozen as he looks at his brother, rubbing his temples, breaking down. Once he processes the sight of it all, he scrambles to get around the side of the booth and towards Hanzo.

 

“No, no, Genji, don’t.” Hanzo scowls as Genji wraps his arms around his back.

  
“Shh, it’s okay.”

 

“That’s improper, Genji. We’re in a  _ restaurant _ .” Hanzo rolls his eyes, reddened and still wet.

 

“I know. Don’t care.” Genji headbutts his shoulder.

 

“Please, Genji.  _ Let go of me _ . You’re making this harder...” Hanzo’s cheeks tense as he feels the tears well up again, as he tries to fight them back.  _ Don’t make me regret this even more, don’t make me hesitate. _

 

Genji hugs his brother tighter, and holds him there for a while.

 

Ultimately, Hanzo doesn’t stop him.

 

\- - - - - - - - - - 

 

Genji blinks hard at Hanzo, feeling the sting of tears at the corners of his own eyes.

 

Nothing compared to Hanzo, who’s amassed a pile of cheap napkins on the table before them, and is still wiping up snot and salt with yet another. Genji then looks away as Hanzo sniffles loudly.

 

“Are you ready to tell me what’s the problem, brother?” Genji raises a brow, turning to him briefly before looking away from the mess.

 

“Mmmh.” Hanzo snorts and then takes another clean tissue to wrap the soiled one in. He huffs, “You know. Stress.”

 

“It’s more than just that. What is it, your work, the family, what-”

 

“Everything, Genji.  _ Everything. _ ” Hanzo puts his head in his hands, stares into his cold bowl of ramen, the cooled oil swirling at the top. “Money, the things I have to manage now, Father’s will. Everything, shit.”

 

“The elders are assisting me with the whole turnover, and I’ve… I’ve trained for this, Genji, but they’re so  _ demanding _ . They’re…” He gulps, “Asking me to do very, very difficult things, and I can’t do it, but I  _ have _ to.”

 

Genji pats his back. “Hey, hey. You’re doing a good job, promise.”  _ Better than me, at least. _

 

“I still don’t… mmh. You wouldn’t understand, Genji.”

 

“Yeah.” Genji offers him a smile.  _ Black sheep of the family, yeah, I can’t do those kinds of responsibilities you have, how would I know how hard they are as much as you know? _

 

Hanzo looks to him and forces a smile in return. “Sorry, brother. I wanted to just… treat you today. I wanted this to be relaxed. Sorry it turned out to be shit. I-I know we’ve been fighting a lot lately, I know… I haven’t been the best to you.”

 

“Hey, it’s been hard lately. I’ve got your back.” He pats Hanzo again, “Literally.”

 

Hanzo snorts at that, and then rubs one of his eyes. Another stray tear. “Thanks.”

 

“Yeah. Sorry I’ve been kind of the family fuck-up.”

 

“Genji, don’t say that.” He receives that familiar stern elder-brother glare, though with a wrinkle of sadness to his brow, to the corner of his mouth.

 

“It’s true, though. I can’t do anything the family wants, and the elders are chewing  _ you _ out for it.” Genji slumps back against the cushioned seats and frowns. “I know you’re just trying to do this for the clan, I get it, it’s just… I never wanted to be part of this business. I just happened to be born into it but I can’t stand for it.”

 

“Well.” Hanzo sighs, “Think you’ll ever change your mind?”

 

Genji shakes his head. 

 

Hanzo looks at him sadly, and then turns away.

 

\- - - - - - - - - - 

 

“Genji?”

 

“Mmm?” Genji’s in the middle of finishing Hanzo’s cold ramen for him.

 

“I really miss Father. And Mother.”

 

“Mmmh.” Genji gulps first and then bows his head, “Me too.”

 

“Yeah.” Hanzo looks blankly out the window. “Genji?”

 

“What?”

 

“Hey. I love you, little sparrow.”

 

“Quit it.” Genji rolls his eyes, but he can’t help but smile. “You too, brother.”

 

\- - - - - - - - - - 

 

When Genji and Hanzo part ways after lunch, Genji is smiling. There’s a bounce to his step and he’s sure to show it to Hanzo, lagging behind. He smirks back nonetheless, and that’s all Genji needs to see, because he knew his brother tried and he wanted him to be happy at the end of the day. Even if he has to fake a jaunty walk.

 

_ This wasn’t a complete waste of time, brother. We finally talked about it, at least, we didn’t fight this time. We’re working on it. _

 

_ It’ll get better. I promise, Hanzo. _

 

_ We’ll get through this together, as brothers. _

 

 

 

 

 

 

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

 

 

When Hanzo’s blade slices his back open, the dragons rip like thunder through his body, through his internal organs, and Genji thinks he has stopped breathing.

 

 

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

_ Genji. _

 

Everything’s a blur, and his body is heavy, but he’s floating.  _ Or being dragged off, dragged off like those Overwatch spies did when they found him,  _ assuming he didn’t dream that too, assuming that’s what really happened.

 

_ Genji. _

 

The golden dragon glares down upon him from the heavens, because he couldn’t jump high enough, because he couldn’t do this for his family, he couldn’t be, he couldn’t  _ be _ .

 

_ Genji? _

 

When he sees the blades he cries out and he tries to kick away, he tries to run, but he’s paralyzed,  _ paralyzed _ like when his  _ brother _ ripped through his spine-

 

“Genji!”

 

Zenyatta’s voice breaks through the haze and Genji’s eyes flash wide open, he feels his heels planted on the ground, and he isn’t paralyzed at all, only restrained. His heart is throbbing hard and he hears the frantic trill of Zenyatta’s orbs, ringing in his ears, a million other sounds rushing all at once, his hands numb, his withered nerves giving no feeling.

 

Zenyatta’s body is whirring and Genji realizes his own fans are on overdrive, his augments huffing out vapor, but once he can tell all the sounds apart, their rhythm grounds him in the moment.

 

And he is alive, and he is here, now.

 

“ _ Genji, can you hear me, are you okay- _ ”

 

Genji’s breath hitches as his eyes dart around the room, seeking Zenyatta’s face though common sense would tell him he was right behind him. Instead he sees the dragon painting again, and his swords in their stands, and he kicks his feet against the ground to get up and twirl to face the other, grapple the floating omnic.

 

“Zenyatta…”

 

“Genji, wh-what happened, we were-”

 

“-P-please.” Genji breathes sharply, “I can’t be here right now.”

 

“Genji.” Zenyatta helps him unto his feet, hesitates for a while until he looks at the scene before him. Genji’s belongings, the few trophies and reminders he took back from home.

 

“...Alright, follow me.”

 

\- - - - - - - - - - 

 

After a detour through the kitchen to grab some tea, balanced on a tray in Zenyatta’s lap, the two make their way through the ground floor. He expects Zenyatta to take him to one of the meditation rooms, but instead they avoid them and the monks quarters and head straight for the storage areas.

 

Genji’s about to ask him where the heck they’re going as they move past the crate-lined halls, but his mouth feels too dry, and he decides not to question it and to keep following.

 

The boxes give away to items of more color and interest, and Genji looks back at each one as they go by. He lets the other things he had seen sink deeper into his mind. He didn’t want to forget, ever, but for now, it was alright not to dwell. Just for this brief moment.

 

There are a few doorways at the end of the hall, and the loud ventilation up above. Genji’s surprised to see  that, despite being quite out of the way, the whole area isn’t too dusty.

 

“W-what is this place?” Genji looks about, and then takes the lower part of his visor off, fully taking in the weird smell of the area. 

 

Zenyatta doesn’t answer as he opens one of the doors, turns on the lights to reveal a small room with a large mirror, two small crates, and walls bursting with color.

 

Zenyatta sets the tray and tea down on one of the crates, and Genji goes in to sit down on the other. Zen sighs, rising up briefly before stretching out his legs and perching on the edge of the crate with the tea. He then pours one cup out for Genji.

 

“Take your time.”

 

Genji’s already got a few questions lined up, but in the small room he can easily hear the frantic sounds of Zen’s own machinery trying to settle. They both need time.

 

“...Okay.” Genji’s hands are still a little numb, but when he takes the cup it at the very least gives his nerves that warmth. He takes a slow sip as his eyes wander about, as he turns his body here and there. There are  _ costume pieces _ around the room, plenty of masks in particular, all too out of place in a monastery.

 

Then there’s the large mirror, and Genji freezes up, seeing good faithful reality staring back at the pair of them, seeing the wet trails of tears down his face catching the light.

 

He rubs his cheeks, and then after a while, he turns back to Zenyatta.

 

“What happened?”

 

“I’m not sure, actually.” Zen puts his hands together. “You don’t remember? Genji, we were practicing in the courtyard again. It was going fine, but…”

 

“ _ But what? _ ” Genji leans closer.

 

“You were practicing your fencing, that  _ was _ different from our usual methods, and… well, it’s a bit of a blur, Genji, I…” Zen looks down shamefully, fingers twiddling now, his orbs swirling in a tight circle around his face.

 

“Oh. Fuck.” Genji grapples at the ribbon of his helmet. Tugs it hard, feeling a brief rush of anger, perhaps at himself, “It’s not your fault, master, don’t worry. I’m trying to remember.”

 

“I’ve been having weird thoughts lately, I guess.” Genji’s shoulders fall, and he puts down his cup of tea, “I must have broken down.”

 

“Do you know why? How?” Zenyatta’s voice has a tone of something he’s never heard from the omnic so strongly before, and it’s  _ panic, _ pure panic that can’t be smoothed down by the deep reverb that’s layered over it. Genji falls silent.

 

“I don’t know. I guess something about the fighting made me remember-” he swallows hard, “-remember what happened to me. I keep getting these flashbacks, but usually they’re like… dreams.”

 

His grip tightens on the cup, “I’ve never mixed it up like that. It was like I was in a trance…”

 

“I-I see.” Zenyatta absently winds up pouring him another cup, not even turning his head down to look at the teapot. Genji takes another sip, another calming breath.  _ Inhale, exhale. _

 

Inhale, exhale.

 

“It was about my brother.” Genji bites his lip. “I remembered the day he killed me.”

 

“Genji.” Zenyatta reaches his hand out, “I know this is a hard topic for you.”

 

Genji nods, but then manages a smile. “Zen, I really appreciate you helping me all these months.”

 

He inhales a little deeper, exhales for a little longer.

 

“I really think it’s about time I talk about it all.”

 

“Are you sure?”

 

“Zenyatta-” He knits his brows, looks with pleading eyes. “I don’t want this to happen again. I don’t think it’s healthy for me to keep this all in and not to face it. Maybe just verbalizing it will make it, uh, make sense.”

 

“My brother, Hanzo, my  _ death _ … I really can’t. Comprehend what I am  _ now _ if I can’t understand them and. I don’t know, Zenyatta, I don’t know if I can understand it all alone. I don’t think I can face it alone.”

 

And with that, Genji puts the cup down and uses both hands to take Zen’s. More than temperature, he can feel the dips between the joints, the textures rough and smooth. He is here, in the moment.

 

Zenyatta nods down at Genji, and then pushes the tray aside with his free hand so he can sit closer.

 

“If you are ready to tell me about it, then I am here for you, Genji.” He looks around the room briefly, “Actually, I went here because I thought you… I had a hunch you might have needed a place more out of sight.”

 

“Well, after that breakdown… yeah.” He looks down at his hands again, cupping Zen’s, before letting go. He can think about his shame later. “What is this place, anyway?”

  
  


“It’s my past, actually.” Zenyatta takes hold of an orb and then sends it swirling past Genji. The others follow after it until they make a wider circle, around the pair of them, teacher and student, omnic and cyborg, friend and friend. A circle of secrets, of warmth.

  
“But for now, I want to hear yours.”


	13. Living

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Genji and Zenyatta talk about their pasts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey. This chapter is another 5k+ word beast, and again: Was one I was excited for a long time to get to write.
> 
> This delves into the unexplored canon for Zenyatta's life before the Shambali, so yeehaw, lots of headcanon time. Skin lore.
> 
> Lots of dialogue and inner thoughts, but then again this fic is mostly a conflict of the mind, so that's the usual stuff by this point.
> 
> I guess the warnings from last chapter apply to here, discussions of a traumatic past and dissociation.
> 
> Ultimately I'm happy with this Chapter and... seriously, as usual, thanks for the feedback. Love you all <3

 

 

For being in a roomful of masks and blank eyes, the circle of orbs around the both of them makes Genji feel perfectly alone with Zenyatta. No other monks. No one prying.

 

In the small room, the whirrs of their bodies are all the more obvious. Even echoing. Genji’s learned to use the sound to ground himself, and once he’s in the moment, he huffs.

 

“The truth is Zen, I don't know if I still have my human soul.“ He bows his head, grapples his knees. “I mean I… I _died_ , at least, I might as well have, sometimes… I wonder.”

 

He curls his fingers on both hands, flesh and blood and metal and circuitry. “Sometimes I feel like I’m starting to get used to this form but there’s something always holding me back.”

 

“I don’t know. My life’s so _fucked up_ . I don’t have a better way to say it, _I’m fucked up_. It’s so hard to make sense of it. I don’t know where to start.”

 

Zenyatta’s floating across him, fingertips together as if in prayer, “You said your nightmares are connected to your past. We’re going to… understand what happened with you and Hanzo.”

 

Genji shudders to hear that name from someone else. “He killed me.”

 

“Yes.” Zenyatta nods, “Tried to, at least. Do you, uhm, know why?”

 

“I know the reasons. The Shimada clan. The rest of my family has always, _always_ disapproved of me.” Genji scowls. “I only got to be so careless because my father didn’t care, my mother let him spoil me, and my brother, well, he enabled me, too, even if he also lectured me often. The yakuza business was toxic on all sides, I wanted nothing to do with it! But Hanzo was the _heir_ , he _had_ to care.”

“It was around this time of the year, too. The moment my parents were both dead, the elders started pressuring Hanzo. It got more and more tense between us, we were fighting more and more. I got mad if he so much as raised his voice.”

 

Genji breathes hard. “I just don’t get why he… Why he went ahead and actually _did_ it and… _No_ , it doesn’t make sense. Like there’s a big gap in my memory and I just can’t connect it.” He cups his mouth with his palm and tucks his fingers beneath the rest of his visor, rubbing his eyelids. Shaking his head. “It’s just not right.”

 

Zenyatta leans close, and the orbs with their warmth circle closer as well.

 

“The Hanzo I knew, he’d never do it. Never. No matter what the others told him to do. No matter how bad it got between us.” Genji sniffles. “In fact, the day he did it he took us out to our favorite ramen place.”

 

Genji leans back, his nape resting faintly on one of the floating orbs. He huffs, “He used to be able to go through, like, seven bowls in a sitting. I never figured out how he did it. It was a ritual for us, a kind of brotherly bonding moment?” Then he turns away from Zenyatta.

 

“So we had lunch together. And then that night he attacked me. He cut me up. Even used both dragons on m-me. Le-left me for d-dead-”

 

“Genji.” Zenyatta reaches forward to steady the other’s shoulders.

 

“-He _killed_ me, Zenyatta.” Genji bows his head forward now. His visor still hides his eyes, though the tears streaming down are obvious, framing gritted teeth. “At least whoever I was before all that. He _disfigured_ me, he… did this.” He points at his exposed mouth and cheeks, the artificial lower jaw, the skin streaked with burns and scratches. “All this.”

 

“Breathe, my student.” Zenyatta nudge’s Genji’s head up before placing his hand back on his shoulder. Genji pauses, and then sighs, putting his fingertips together the same way Zenyatta had done earlier.

 

_Inhale. Exhale._

_You are alive, and you are here._

 

\- - - - - - - - - - 

 

“Do you want more tea?”

“Mmmh.” Genji shrugs.

“It’s still a little warm. Might help you clear up your nose.” Zenyatta goes ahead and pours out some for him.

 

Genji sniffles, and nods before getting his cup.

 

\- - - - - - - - - - 

 

“Zenyatta?” Genji looks around the room, holding his cup between his palms. “You had a life before the Shambali.”

 

“Yes. I did.”

 

He sips. “Does it ever just give you the feeling? Like, in your gut, or whatever your robot equivalent is. A feeling that’s just so _wrong_ whenever you see something from that time because it isn’t _you_.”

 

Zenyatta seems to pause completely for a moment, even his orbs stop their gentle rise and fall. He looks away, to one of the masks and their empty eyes. “Sometimes. In the past I felt it more. Now, I’ve made more peace with who I was before the Shambali.” His lights flicker. “Still, I’ve been thinking about it more lately.”

 

“Hmm.” Genji follows his line of sight, to the colorful displays around the room. “It’s exactly like that. A mask. Like there were three versions of me- Me in the Shimada clan before all this, me while I was in Blackwatch, and me right now.”

 

“I have pictures of myself, that ‘first’ me.” He sets down his cup and gestures down at the tray, as if the journal- the photograph with him in his youth- was laid open right before him. “But when I look at it… I _know_ it’s my face but it feels more like it’s some ghost wearing it, like it’s not me at all.”

 

“Well, people change, Genji-”

 

“I know!” Genji throws his arms out, and then sighs as he sets them back on his lap. “I see these old me’s and all logic says is that it’s _definitely_ me, but my guts just want to spill out because it doesn’t seem fucking right at all. Like my memories don’t make any connection, my personality, my…”

 

Genji shakes his head and bows it. “I can barely remember much of my time in Blackwatch. I was so, so angry, and everything I did at the time it was so against any values I had when I was younger, and my values _now_. Not only that-” He grasps his knee harder, “-I killed so much of my family. I did exactly the shit Hanzo did, and what I hate him for.”

 

“And I wasn’t even thinking when I let them turn me into a human weapon. I’m still angry at those scientists, too, even if it was my fault for letting them augment me, because they didn’t stop me.”

 

Genji looks to Zenyatta again, and extends his mechanical arm, producing a spread of shuriken between his fingers. Zen jolts backward at that.

 

“See this? I literally have weapons storage _built into_ me. _Someone_ should’ve figured this would fuck me up later, and…” Genji huffs hard and lowers his hand, sheaths the blades. “Sorry. To think of it, there are plenty of omnics who have body parts made for work or war like this.”

 

“You’re _human_ though. So while I did ask you to think of your body in some ways omnics do-” Zen reaches over and takes Genji’s hands, guiding the two palms together, “-you’re more than allowed to feel that way. Because you’re right. You weren’t in the best place to decide on some of those augments.”

 

“Still. I asked for them.”

 

“You have a point. Overwatch or Blackwatch, they should have stepped back, because look at how this is affecting you now.” Zenyatta lowers Genji’s hands, in time to a deep exhale from the cyborg.

 

“You know what you did wrong, right, Genji?” Zenyatta tilts his head, and squeezes his hands.

 

Genji nods. “I killed so many of the Shimada, and _cruelly_ . That was… wrong, even if they were the same elders who wanted me dead.” He gulps. “And… there was _absolutely_ no reason for me to kill the ones who were young like me. They didn’t know better.”

 

He blinks hard to stifle tears. “I could have convinced them to escape the yakuza. Or just got rid of their capacity to hurt others. What’s worse is that at the time, I thought they all deserved it. I actually wanted to hurt the doctors too, but… I realized my anger was poisoning me before it could get even worse.”

 

Zenyatta is silent for a while. Then he manages an “alright” and hums away. “Do you know what wasn’t your fault?”

And Genji bows his head, frowning. Zen squeezes his hands tighter.

 

“...Genji. It wasn’t your fault you stood up to your values. It wasn’t your fault they wanted to kill you for _not wanting to be a part of the yakuza_.”

 

Genji pulls his hands away from Zenyatta’s, and crosses his arms, looking aside. Zenyatta moves a few inches away from him.

 

“I know all the things I fucked up...What did I do _right_?” Genji tips his head up.

 

“You’ve acknowledged all this. And now, you’re taking steps to recover.”

 

“By being a burden on the Shambali…”

 

“No.” Zenyatta shakes his head. “You know well that we wanted to help you and understand you. And in turn, you’ve helped us too. You’ve gone on our peace missions. Not that you owe us anything…”

 

To Zen’s surprise, Genji cracks a smile. “Yeah. I guess.” Genji then faces back to him, and looks dumbfounded as the omnic reaches a hand out.

 

Genji takes it without even thinking. Zenyatta then gives his wrist a squeeze, and sends a rush of static down his circuitry.

 

 _I learned that from you_ , he swears he can hear Zenyatta think. They let go of each other and lock eyes in the resulting quiet, remembering the other night, remembering the long walk.

 

The tea’s gone cold, but still, they remain in the peace of the room.

 

\- - - - - - - - - - 

 

 

Zenyatta pipes up again after another short while. “So I know you a little more now, Genji. Might I ask something?”

 

“Anything, sure. You _are_ hell-bent on helping me, after all.” He smirks.

 

Zen looks up, right at Genji’s visor, the still-concealed eyes. “So what do you need? What do you want to make peace with, from all this?”

 

“Hmm.” Genji’s eyes glance aside, not that the other could tell. “I want to be sure it’s always just been me in this body. It’s always just been my mind, my human soul. I don’t know.” His shoulders fall. “I’m paranoid sometimes. That I’m just a shell, and I don’t know how I’d be able to tell because this is a _soul_ we’re talking about. So, uh. Good luck with that.”

 

“I’ve dealt with this exact feeling with omnics many times. Humans, well, not quite… But Genji, I assure you, you won’t be alone.”

 

The orbs zoom out of their orbit, forming a familiar smiley-face arrangement, and Genji chuckles and reaches under his visor to wipe a stray tear. “Thanks.”

 

“Is that all, Genji?”

 

“Hmmm. One more thing.” He frowns, “My brother.”

 

“What about him?” Zenyatta stiffens.

 

“I want to know why he did this to me. How he really felt. Everything stems from him, my conflicted feelings… Is it fucked up that I sort of _want_ to find a reason to forgive him?” Genji gnaws on his lower lip.

 

“Hmm. Erasing that one incident, before all that, what was he like?”

 

“H-he loved me. Like I said, we fought a lot but he protected me. He was proud of me. Thought I was cool even if he didn’t admit it.” Genji couldn’t help but smirk, just for a moment, before it falls away to a sadness. “But every time I have to relive that night I… swear he did it without remorse. I was torn apart.”

 

“He even struck me when my back was turned. I was clueless. I didn’t stand a chance! If he really cared, then why did I go out that way?”

 

“...You really don’t have to forgive _him_ , ever, or make peace with what he did, Genji.” Zenyatta hovers closer, “But it’s okay if you want to, know it’ll be hard. It says a lot about you that you still want to forgive.”

 

“Like what?”

“You care a lot. You’d rather love than hate, and you have a big heart for it.” Zenyatta places his hands on Genji’s chest.

 

Genji fights a blush by puffing out his cheeks, “N-not really.”

 

“Didn’t you use to have like, hmm, a thousand lovers?”

 

“They were flings, they don’t even count!” Genji pushes Zen backwards playfully, and he simply hovers back to place. “Master, Where did you even hear about that?”

 

“Sister Marzi. Sometimes I like to be on top of gossip, my student~” Zenyatta chuckles.

 

“New topic. I’m _exhausted_ talking about myself. Thank you very much, now-” Genji stands up and grabs a mask from close by, “-your turn. Your past.”

 

“Haha~ It’s only fair. How long have you been eyeing that one?” Zenyatta zooms closer as Genji walks in front of the large mirror and raises the mask, a smiling white-and-red kitsune, over his face.

 

“Listen, it’s _my aesthetic_. Though I guess it probably won’t fit on top of my helmet.” He looks to Zenyatta’s reflection in the mirror. “What were you? Some costume designer?”

 

“You have one more guess.” Zenyatta smugly crosses his arms. Genji frowns at him, and then looks around, at the masks, at the one in his hand, and he realizes they all seem to come with electronic elements.

 

And then it clicks.

 

“ _No way._ ” He breaks into a grin at the other, “You were an actor?”

 

“Correct.” Zenyatta takes the mask in Genji’s hand, and raises it over his own head. He doesn’t put it on, but at a glance Genji can tell it’s a perfect fit over his faceplate.

 

“So you’ve been in movies?” Immediately, Genji’s eyes dart around the room to see if he could recognize any of the masks. Zenyatta whirrs happily even as he shakes his head,

 

“I mostly worked in theater. But I’ve been in a few background roles in movies.”

 

“There was an industry like this for omnics? Which one was your first?”

 

Zenyatta’s orbs glow brighter, seeing his interest, and so he floats around the room, pointing eventually to a faceplate almost exactly like his own, except painted to look skeletal. “Zomnics were a big craze around the time I made.”

 

“The introduction of omnics actually allowed for grander productions that were much easier and cheaper to direct. Not just actors, but workers behind the scenes. We revolutionized theater, actually, we helped smaller troupes diversify and flourish.” His tone is informative, but chipper, and Genji can tell he’s just barely keeping himself from chirping out every detail.

 

"We required less hours to train, and we could be grabbed in case backup was needed. We never made mistakes.” He taps his head. ”I’ve still got every script I’ve ever been given memorized. So yes, it was quite the industry.”

 

“I was programmed to be more relatable to a largely human audience, but still, the main casts of the productions tended to be humans.”

 

“Never knew it was this big…” Genji looks in awe now, realizing just _how many_ roles all these masks meant to fill. “Then again, I’ve never been a theater buff. That’s such a cool job. Didn’t you have any more major roles?”

 

“At first, it was near impossible because humans couldn’t relate with us. There was this ‘uncanny valley’ effect if we had more humanlike masks and expressions, too, while our regular faceplates couldn’t emote. So we were best in the background, or in villain roles.” Zenyatta tuts and shakes his head. “But _oh_ , the later years. We had more of a voice, and diversity improved in the scene. We got some lead roles, and some of these were even from all-omnic cast productions.” Zenyatta floats over to another side of the room, to a mask display next to some closets.

 

“Wait. That’s _Tang Sanzang_!” Genji follows quickly after him.

 

“Journey to the West, yes! That might be my favorite costume.”

 

“And you did the _Nutcracker?”_ Genji carefully prods his finger under the massive mustache of the mask, making the wooden mouth drop and revealing the painted teeth and gums. “That’s kind of horrifying. Did you dance, too? Did you do _ballet_?”

 

“...It was just a small production aimed at children, but it was very fun.”

 

Genji forces a pout and elbows the other, and Zenyatta simply dodges the question and hovers to the next mask. “This is from my Egyptian Gods production…”

 

“Wow.” Genji has the mind to pull his hands away from the pristine metal, the golds and blues of the falcon head reflecting light to its surroundings. “That’s gorgeous.”

 

“Was a high cost production. Luckily I got to keep this one mask, they sold off the others.” He cups the bird’s face, almost fondly, before stepping back to look over the whole lot. Genji does the same.

 

“Wow. Just wow. Do the other monks know?”

 

“They know the basic gist of my past. Though few have seen this room. Many of us really don’t ask each other what we were like before the Shambali.” He makes a deep sigh and settles down on a crate.

 

And then, Zenyatta is quiet. Hauntingly so, with the echoes of his excited voice still reverberating in Genji’s head.

 

He’s contemplative, orbs with the trill and rise and fall of someone meditating. But Genji knows he’s anything but calm, not with the noise of the rest of his body. All this, and then there was only one question next:

 

“...So why did you leave?” _It seemed pretty nice for you,_ Genji thinks.

 

“This was my existence, and nothing else. The only names I had were the roles I starred.” Zenyatta casually plays with the orbs as they fly over his eyes, prodding them out of place one-by-one before they bounce back into their orbits. “It wears you down after a while, playing a hundred different faces and lives, but not having your own. I realized the humans who came to watch had their own lives after the curtains closed. _Whole, complex lives._ ”

 

“Because I’m an omnic, they assumed I never needed rest. I was overworked. The extent of my contact with humans outside the stage was just the voice coach telling me the exact intonation I needed to use. Words I needed to repeat over, _and over_ , with no variation.”

 

“My fellow omnic actors… we all lived the same life. What was there to say for casual conversations? We only had stories to share of the plays we starred in. Nothing of real lives. We couldn’t even debate about the values of the characters in the stories, with no experience of our own.”

 

Zenyatta jolts from his monologue when Genji is suddenly next to him, sitting beside him on the crate. The omnic’s struck silent when Genji simply offers a smile.

 

Zenyatta wishes he could return it the same way, sometimes. But it doesn’t matter to Genji, not when Zen’s body’s temperature control is a little off. Not when his lights, on his face, on his orbs, are all glowing brighter.

 

Zenyatta doesn’t notice he’s showing the million other ways through which Genji can tell that he is happy, happy because they aren’t alone.

 

“I see. Damn. So has it been better here, at least?” Genji fixes up the tea set on top of the other crate, and then puts back on the lower part of his visor.

 

“Y-yes. Much better.” Zenyatta watches him, the intricacies in how his fingers moved, the subtle differences between Genji’s two hands. The human and the ‘uncanny’, robotic, things he was trained long ago to see and to avoid. Now, it didn’t matter.

 

There was something else about his old life, one that needed no more dwelling on: The shame of being a robot, of being non-human. Now, it mattered less.

 

_The only shame here was not having a voice to call his own._

 

“When I started having roles with more complex characters, I started to realize the discrepancy. Gods with their drama, a monk on a great journey… sometimes being pursued by demons.” He chuckles “And a strange looking doll finding love despite his looks.” He holds his hands out and curls them into grasping claws, “Compared to my first roles, where my only lines were… “ _Graaaargh_ ” and “ _Braiiins_.”

 

”I wasn’t complex at all.” He puts his hands on his lap, tilts his head to Genji. “So I escaped. I wanted to be complex. The Iris called to me, and I found it in me. And now, I’m here.”

 

“I’d watch a play of your life.” Genji grins shamelessly, now that Zen can’t see it.

 

“Sorry, I’m retired.” Zenyatta crosses his arms. “...Well, actually, I still do Shambali charity plays. The children love it.”

 

“Awww, that’s sweet, master.” Genji says, in a teasing singsong tone. “I’d love to see one.”

 

“It’s the one thing I miss, and the one thing I don’t regret. I made people happy.” Zenyatta then rises back up. He looks around the room for some cloth, not hard when there are prop scraps about, and wipes the dust off the Nutcracker’s pink face.

 

“Now, I’ve learned to think of myself, as well. My own soul, my own life.”

 

Genji watches Zenyatta dust off some of the other nicer masks.

 

Genji then picks up the tray and the tea set, sensing that it’s time for them to go.

 

\- - - - - - - - - - 

 

Genji looks sadly at the room as they turn off the lights, shut the door, close the curtains. He has never seen a show from the other, (except the way Zen dances and dodges in their fights,) and yet Genji feels sentimental.

 

“That’s a lot of things to keep from something that isn’t you anymore.”

 

“Oh. But it _is_ me.” Zenyatta folds his legs up to his usual sitting-hover, and he offers to take the tray, at which Genji doesn’t budge.

 

“You practically carried me earlier, Zen.”

 

“Fair enough.” Zen nods, and they walk forward together.

 

“Perhaps I didn’t always know I had a soul, I didn’t always know of the Iris. But I think I always had it in me. My life began there. My preprogramming affects me even now. When I feel lost, I always go back to the beginning. I go to that room and remember who I am.” He puts his hands together, and then turns to his student. “Why do you have things from your ancestral home in your room? I imagine it was difficult to get that massive painting all the way from Hanamura.”

 

“...” Genji stares down at the tray in his hands. “It’s… my way of reminding myself who I am. It can feel so strange looking at them, but if I didn’t have them, then it’s like I’m forgetting my connection to being _human_ more and more.” He mumbles some extra details about how he’d actually confiscated the painting from a runaway Shimada collaborator, and that it wasn’t in its current framed form. Zenyatta simply snickers at that, and pats Genji’s head.

 

“Exactly. Genji Shimada. There are many, many people who have been part of your life, who have affected you for better or for worse. But your journey is ultimately about you.”

 

“So never forget yourself.”

  
  


\- - - - - - - - - - 

 

_(Myself. After all my sins and my death, is this still me?)_

 

_Genji Shimada, youngest son of the head of the Shimada. Betrayed by his brother, and in anger took the whole clan as revenge. The whole clan, that created this culture, that created the rules that wronged him to begin with._

 

_Genji Shimada, who was weak of mind when he allowed his body to be cyberneticized, who realized too late what he had become, the decision he could never take back._

 

_Genji Shimada, who ran from the Shimada, who ran from Blackwatch, who ran across the globe looking for answers to the state of his soul._

 

_Each time, he’s always loathed some part of him, some part of him that couldn’t think like the Shimada could, the part of him that was mangled with tubes and wires and machinery, the part of him that was a ghost in a new body, sleek and white and neon green. Anything but human._

 

_Anger, violence, and always running away. Making bad decisions, hating, loathing others. These were the constants to being himself._

 

 _(And yet, I care too much about love,_ he tells me. _Maybe that’s why. That’s why it hurts,_

 

_And that’s why I wish to forgive.)_

 

\- - - - - - - - - - 

 

  
  


Walking back with Zenyatta, Genji feels strange, as if he had gone to another country when, in reality, it was just a hidden part of the Shambali temple.

 

The more familiar architecture creeps back into view, as are the sounds of gentle chimes, of other monks in their rounds meditating.

 

“Did I… make you miss a session with the others, master?”

 

Zenyatta shakes his head, “S-some _did_ see what happened with our training earlier.”

 

“Ah. Fuck. I forgot we weren’t alone. So I guess they knew you were with me.” Genji walks ahead as they near the kitchen, putting the teapot and cup in the sink once inside and rinsing them.

 

Zenyatta follows behind and quickly notices a covered bowl on the counter. Curious, he checks it to see some rice porridge. At least, what he assumes to be some under a mountain of vegetables.

“Oh, look. The others must have gone and bought dinner for you.”

 

Genji raises a brow and looks over from his cleaning. “Oh. Nice. Uh, I wish I knew who to thank.” He then finishes up by cleaning the tray as well, before taking the bowl left out for him. Still warm.

 

“Thank you too. For helping me through this. I think I’ll go back to my room.”

 

“Very well. Are you alright being back there? Since you reacted badly to… seeing your…”

“Hmm.” Genji cuts him off, and then steps towards the doorway. “Uh… Walk with me.”

 

“Haha~ Of course, my Genji.”

 

Genji almost loses his footing and the bowl with that. Zenyatta doesn’t seem to notice.

 

\- - - - - - - - - - 

 

“Genji?”

 

“Hmm?” They’re approaching his room now. He turns to Zen.

 

“I was wondering. You kept talking about things not making sense.”

 

He shrugs in reply. “Well, yeah, my life _is_ a mess, after all.”

 

“But more that that-” Zenyatta holds out his hand, “-like you mentioned something like…gaps in your memory. Having trouble remembering. That sort of thing… Do you think that’s worth looking into?”

 

“Oh.” Genji stops in front of his door and frowns. “Why? It’s been so long ago, I don’t know if I can always trust my memories. My nightmares sometimes mix up the reality of the details, too.”

 

“I’m no expert on this, but I hear sometimes humans repress traumatic memories. Perhaps…” His orbs breathe, bob up and down with himself, “Perhaps you might uncover new details that fill in those gaps.”

 

“Huh.” Genji bites his lip. _Perhaps._

 

_There’s always that haze, that uncertainty, that period of time before you died, where you don’t know what happened._

_But you know you were still there_.

 

Zenyatta moves ahead of Genji to open the door for him. Genji forces his eyes shut at first, but when he slowly opens them and sees his room, he sees his blades (sheathed, safe, not cutting through him,) the golden dragon in the painting on the wall (not flying towards him,) and his clothes, his belongings, his bed.

 

“Are you alright?”

 

“Yes. Again, Master Zenyatta, I can’t thank you enough.” Genji heads on forward, and bows to him at the doorway right after.

 

“Thank you for listening to my own story as well, Genji.” Zenyatta bows back. “And… Remember. It doesn’t stop here. You have to face your troubles and your past someday, and I think that’s your key to peace. Rest for now, you’ve had a long day.”

 

“Y-yeah. I know.” Genji pulls up a seat by his desk, and places his dinner down.

 

“You won’t be alone. I promise.”

 

_I’ll get better. I promise, Zenyatta._

 

Genji hears Zenyatta start to hover out of the room, tugging on the door as Genji removes his lower visor to eat. He then calls out,

 

“Zenyatta?”

 

“Yes?” Zen pops his head right back into Genji’s room.

 

“Stay with me. A little longer.”

 

“O-oh.” Zenyatta floats back in and shuts the door. “If you wish.”

 

“I want you to be here.” Genji smiles sweetly, and sure enough, Zenyatta hovers close.

 

“I was going to head to my quarters to meditate there, but perhaps I can do it in your room instead. Is that alright?”

 

“Yes.” _Of course._

\- - - - - - - - - - 

 

Truth be told, he still thinks a lot of his old home. But though it’s often still painful, he finds it messes with his psyche less and less, outside the breakdowns, outside the worst memories of it.

For a moment, he recalls the time when the first few omnic security were hired at the place. He scoffed at the thought then, _they could be easily compromised,_ like the training bots he worked with often. The elders thought they were a lot more efficient, at least… And more expendable.

 

Genji returns to the present, and he scoffs now as he listens to Zenyatta.

 

_Once upon a time, he used to think that omnics didn’t have a soul._

 

He feels pity for himself, as he eats his meal, because he’s still not quite sure if he has one himself. But why should that matter to what he thinks of them?

 

_Once upon a time, he didn’t want to admit omnics had a soul, because that meant the deaths of those at the hand of the Shimada and their enemies._

 

 _That meant that these poor machines might have had something he himself did not_.

 

But then, there was Zenyatta. Who could make Genji’s cheeks prickle when he laughed, and when he complimented his fighting form. When he stuttered a bit too much. When he brought food up to him. When they meditated together, and when Zen would bring the warmth of his orbs close to Genji.

 

Zenyatta, who shared sparks and static between their fingertips. Who was lovely even when quiet, deep in thought, facing the window and the nighttime breeze.

 

His body’s song is much calmer now, a weight lifted off his shoulders.

 

 _But he was programmed that way. He said it himself, that he was created to appeal to humans_. That’s what a voice says in his head, but he disregards it.

 

Zenyatta isn’t fooling anyone. Because nothing could fake his voice, and the way his shoulder plates glided over his back when he giggled. His fondness for being silly when no one was looking.

 

His Iris, his _life_.

 

Until Genji had memorized his face, memorized the way his hands moved, gentle to all things. How he emoted in different ways outside what was human. The whirr of his body. The trill of the orbs. The lights blinking in and out on his faceplate. The fans hissing and slowing, ticking, the rush of vapor.

 

 _Once upon a time, he didn’t want to admit the omnics had a soul,_ but Zen proved him wrong.

 

 _“Hello, world.”_ he remembers him say, looking with awe at a little frog.

 

_“Take the stage and let me be your audience.”_

 

This is not someone pretending to have a soul.

  
  
This is someone who is happy, happier than anyone else he has ever known, to be _alive_.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _He's in love, my dudes._


	14. Gold

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It is a while before Zenyatta meditates in Genji’s room once again.
> 
> And what a sight it is.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone, long time no update- almost a month! I hope the fact that this is the longest chapter so far, almost 7k words, makes up for it.
> 
> The reasons: Finals week, I got super sick, my girlfriend is visiting and is radiant and distracting, and also, this is a chapter that I was wildly excited to type but also knew, from the beginning, that it was also going to be the most challenging. I completely rewrote and scrapped big portions of it. 
> 
> It is more experimental than the others, but ultimately I'm proud, and I'm super thankful for everyone's comments that have helped me be more confident moving forward with this fic!
> 
> I'm dipping into trickier territory- see the PTSD tag because I guess by now it's reasonable to say Genji has it the way I write him- a lot of the themes in this fic are inspired by some of my own experiences just, you know, different with dramatic dragons and Overwatch, but if you have any concerns feel free to bring them up~
> 
> As for the violence- it's still really not that graphic, but uh, it's a little more concrete here. Either way, enjoy, and thanks again for the patience and comments, I'll try get back to a weekly update schedule at the very least!

There are memories Genji keeps with him, memories to remind him of his humanity, as spring goes through its motions.

 

They return to their training and sparring sessions with no incident in the weeks that follow, though sometimes Genji looks upon the painting in his room with a sense of suspicion, that any day it could warp into the dragons from his nightmares once more.

 

The painting is one such memory, of his lofty heritage, gilded and golden like the dragon’s scales. A heirloom he took for himself from another runaway Shimada. A blessing and a curse, for it reminded him of his shame as much as it confirmed to him that he was, indeed, the same Genji Shimada that sat by his father’s side.

 

 _That’s why I have to make peace with it, then._ Genji ponders, in his room, out in the forest, or in the gardens of the nearby village. Wherever Zenyatta’s next session takes them, wherever he finds himself meditating.

 

Facing memories, curses, one by one, like Zenyatta has looked into the blank eyes of each and every mask, til he’s vanquished their hurt to the past where they belong. _A lofty goal_ , Genji thinks, as the sunsets change and grow more golden, as he watches the sparrows fledge and flowers bloom and fall, while others persist. He has promised as much to his teacher, that soon they’d face the root cause of his pain, but though Zenyatta has patience and they have time, Genji only wishes he already find the strength to traverse the endless pit.

 

Memories. Curses.

 

The warm air prickles at his neck, as Genji meets another night seemingly no closer to confronting his past.

 

To think, spring is a curse to him too.

 

\- - - - - - - - - - 

 

Hanamura’s cherry blossoms burst forth in the April. Places started to put up their koinobori, and they would soar over the hillsides and establishments. It was when he avoided Hanzo’s yelling- the inevitable fighting at the home of the Shimada- when Genji would see the signs of spring at its peak.

 

To think that his father never lived to see the things like these, the things Hanamura was so proud to have.

 

It was spring, too, when Genji died, before Golden Week, before Children’s Day.

 

In his youth he’d see the four Koi atop one of the buildings private to the main family. Under the family crest there was Father’s in black, Mother’s in red. Hanzo’s in blue, Genji’s beneath them all in green. Flying together.

 

At least the pain of the memories gets duller over time, mixed with nostalgia, with acceptance, their rough edges smoothed by the streams of time and _maybe_ , Genji thinks, one day he’ll look back at them, and it’ll be okay. Smooth and sad like blank eyes, or like sparrow’s eggs, a preface to a life anew. Just okay.

 

These are the memories that are easier to make peace with, clear like tears, and he knows he can’t afford to doubt them.

 

There are the memories that are like furious and desperate dragons, like water yet like blood yet like heavy mud drowning him, memories that make no sense, that only leave him with crypticism and no acceptance, that only grow more terrible over the years and trauma because each iteration brings him no more closure or knowing on what truly happened.

 

_Like that haze, always those moments before he blacked out, when the blade struck him and the dragons surged through skin over and over._

 

Curses like Hanzo’s voice, warped like a glitch, shrieking like a demon, and though he tries to navigate them in his thoughts at night, he only ever loses himself. Whether he is completely on his own, or whether in advance he asks Zenyatta to give him an Orb of Harmony to soothe him.

 

He has found himself less reliant on it over time, and certainly his meditation has gotten better as he is no longer the victim of mass Shambali practical jokes, and yet each time he tries to parse his memories of the incident he only ends up in a cold sweat, breathing hard, heart pounding fast.

 

Memories, and Curses.

Dragons, furious and desperate.

 

And he thinks, _why can’t I just forget?_

 

\- - - - - - - - - - 

 

 

“Omnics fear to forget,” Zenyatta explains to him over one lesson, “Because unlike humans, our memory can be perfect. We weren’t designed to have unreliable recall, to be able to fabricate memories.”

 

“Even memories that are unimportant get sorted away somewhere in here-” He taps his head, “-filed away. Perhaps they never get relevant again, but if they do, it just takes a little extra time for us to retrieve them.” Zenyatta sits back up straight, lacing his fingers together. “If an omnic tells you they’ve forgotten, they can’t be bothered the processing power, or they truly think it’s unimportant to recall.”

 

And Genji simply nods, wishing his mind wasn’t as muddled with his memories mixing with nightmares and dreams. “You don’t wish to forget? To erase even the most painful memories?”

 

“And lose the time it took me to find strength over them?” Zenyatta shakes his head, “No. Take out one memory, and you create a gap of uncertainty. Confusion, away from enlightenment. Take out something important, and we become closer to what we most fear of becoming: A mere shell. Omnic intelligence is always, always built upon the past. Experience. Just as much as yours is.”

 

Zenyatta holds out his hand, and an Orb of Harmony, to which Genji just shakes his head.

 

“You’re troubled by _that_ memory again, yes?” Zenyatta’s shoulders droop, and he takes back the orb to his neck.

 

“I feel like the more I linger upon it, the more I’m just changing the details in my head. The less it makes sense, the less my life makes sense.” Genji holds his head in his hands, “And it’s just… painful to remember. I can’t think about it without also thinking of everything else at once, everything I’m ashamed of.”

 

“You know you do not have to face it alone.” Zenyatta hovers closer, “Or without help. You’ve learned to reign control over your own thoughts.” He plays with the same orb he extended, lightly tapping at it and making it bob at his neck. “If you need harmony in your mind to focus, and help you manage it, then don’t be afraid to use this.”

 

“I _have_.” Genji scowls beneath his visor. “Over the past few weeks, whenever I’ve asked you for one.”

 

“Then would it help if I were to sit with you, or help you through it?” Zenyatta tilts his head, “You do not even need to talk to me about it, or even speak to me. I can… simply be there. Would that help?”

 

Genji grunts in reply, thinking of the relative peace the last few weeks, no, months have brought.

 

“Before you consider anything else that might hold you back, again, just tell me, would it help?” Zenyatta inches closer, and gets a sigh from Genji.

 

“Yes, but…”

 

“If it’ll help, then I’ll accompany you.”

 

“I don’t want to lose myself and lash out again, Master.”

 

“You’re unarmed.” Zenyatta shrugs, “You didn’t hurt anyone last time.”

 

“I don’t want to _feel_ that way again.” Genji’s hands tighten, and his augments let out a hiss of vapor. “It’s… it’s worse when someone can see me break down.”

 

( _And I’m never truly unarmed, not when I’m a living weapon.)_

 

“Alright. I will not judge you, Genji.” Zenyatta floats backwards, keeps a close eye on his tense body.

 

“You’re being pushy, Zen.”

 

“I realize. I’m sorry-” Zenyatta’s orbs droop. “-I won’t force you if you feel it’ll be worse.”

 

Genji reaches up, tugs in annoyance at the cloth of his helmet. “Only if it _fails._ I feel it’ll be worse if I get caught up in my emotions and you’re there and--- Hrrmph. But I _do_ manage better when I’m around you, master. So perhaps it _won’t_ fail.”

 

“So… “ Zenyatta stiffens, rises up, “Would you like me to help you through this?”

 

A nod. “It’s worth a shot.”

 

“We’ll figure it out.” Zenyatta slowly reaches out, pats his shoulder. And Genji smirks. And then he shakes his head,

 

“N-not today-”

 

“Hahah~ We will do it when you’re ready.”

 

Genji chuckles, “I’d need a whole day relaxing before I’m ready for that, master.”

 

“At least… this opens the possibility.”

 

 

 

 

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

 

 

It all comes back to him, in flashes: the days before, and the deep past intertwined, as Genji sees Gold.

 

Golden dragon, golden orbs, golden eyes.

 

 

 

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

 

 

The summer sunsets fill the streams with its light, cast halos around the trees. Moments, wisping past Genji’s thoughts, banishing the dark.

In this moment, everything is a mix, of life, of Zenyatta’s laugh, of death, of Hanzo’s blade. A roar.

 

And the tears keep on streaming down, and he does not know whether he is dreaming or awake.

 

 

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

 

 

 

 

 

When everything happens at once, it is hard to find harmony, order, and yet they somehow fall back into place, starting with the memories.

 

There are memories Genji brings with him, as he sits down together with Zenyatta after a day outside, after meditating to the sound of songbirds.

 

Zenyatta does not question him when they decide to meditate in his room, when Genji decides to sit across the great dragon painting, he only watches as Genji carefully stows his sword far out of reach, only watches and waits for Genji to breathe and prepare himself before Zenyatta starts the orbs on their rotation.

 

And sometimes, the memories are silent, like when Genji sees Hanzo, head bowed and hair undone, circles under his eyes when he announces their father’s passing, dead like the winter cold that seemed to penetrate every corner of the room.

 

Zenyatta’s orb passes behind his head in their dance, bathing the thought and circuits in their warmth, the solace in the sadness. And here and there, Genji finds himself speaking.

 

“I think a lot about the months leading up to the end of it all, I think a lot and I remember these things, even... the smallest things, in perfect detail, because I could look out my window and see a scene and, even though it means nothing on its own, I’d remember something like my father walking through the grounds after a successful deal, I’d remember my mother in the courtyard teaching me, in all her grace, how to draw a blade.”

 

“I remember the weeks after our father’s death, while winter turned into spring, when me and my brother would often call upon our dragons and seek advice from them.”

 

“Dragons?” Zenyatta asks.

 

“I realize I’ve never really shown you, teacher. I’ve told you of how I’d struck down the dragons of those others in my clan, but I don’t think you’d understand until you see. And it’s a terrifying sight.”

 

And Zenyatta nods, and doesn’t ask for more.

 

Memories like those his spirit dragon brings also come with a curse, but he knows it's there, still resting beneath his veins. The ultimate proof of his heritage and also of his crimes, more dangerous than the mere painting on the wall.

 

“I was torn into two after Father’s death. I was sad when Mother had passed, but I was closer to him, and his death had more ramifications for me, for us, for the clan. It was never so simple, when his death meant the turnover, a shift in our clan’s leadership, and a busy time for Hanzo.”

 

Genji bows his head, forces his eyes shut tight. He imagines the graves, the smell of incense ghosting, too real even when it wasn’t there. The strange weight of traditional robes and prayer on his body instead of armor, and how even when he grieved, he was the family embarrassment. He knew their stares and whispers, of a clan that found him alien to their traditions. His lips flatten, and he frowns.

 

_“They thought I was faking it even when I was mourning him.”_

 

Something hitches at the back of his throat, and Zenyatta waits with him in silence.

 

“I was torn in two. I tried being the responsible son they wanted me to be after his death. I attended meetings, preparations for the spring festivals. But the Shimada all thought I’d already dishonored them, dishonored him by simply who I was, and trying then wouldn’t change anything anymore because the fact remained that I didn’t want to truly be complicit in the family business.”

 

“It was never so simple. Sometimes I tried, _I really did_ , but ultimately I ended up often hiding and staying as far from the place as possible in my day-to-day life.”

 

Genji tilts his head up, opens his eyes to see the figures that accompanied the painting of the golden dragon: Two brothers, in green and blue.

 

_“I think Hanzo never had time to be able to cope. He was already dealing with the turnover. I wanted to help him but… they all doubted me, even him did. So I thought there was no point.”_

 

He sighs, leans back so that the orbs in their motions pass closer behind his nape. The memories are silent again.

 

He kept visiting their graves, of his parents, of generations of Shimada gone by, and the words of the elders would make him wonder if his father was truly happy with him, but even back then he had memories he couldn’t afford to doubt, of him being the beloved little sparrow. Though sometimes he wonders, if they were an ordinary family, if Father would have extended the same lenience with Hanzo. If he would have a fond nickname for him too.

 

Mother, with her dragons red, always praised Hanzo for being better in combat, better with a blade, with arrow, first summoning his dragons so early on. They always looked alike, acted alike, and sometimes, knowing Father, Genji felt it was only fair it seemed she reserved her sweetest tone for Hanzo.

 

It only made Hanzo more disdainful in some way, Genji imagines, that she also died sooner. But at least he was able to mourn her where their father only left him stress, and paperwork, and an entire clan staring him down.

 

Only anger, when spring drew closer and with it the festivals of Hanamura that the Shimada participated in to enrich their image. The rush in tourist money and with it the gambles and secret deals.

 

Only anger, whenever the brothers trained together in the mornings, and when Genji remembers those eyes and their dark circles, the deeply furrowed brow, he sometimes feels guilty. Because he always got it easy, because his father babied him, because even if he knew it was wrong to participate in crime he thought he could have shared the burden with Hanzo.

 

They could have truly built an empire together.

 

“I guess I might have said this before. Or maybe not. But considering what I ended up doing in Blackwatch anyway,” he grimaces, “I wonder if it would have been better if I… if I tried to be a Shimada.”

 

The omnic hums, surprising Genji after such a long silence. Zen’s fingers shift and wiggle.

“Uhmm, may I interject?”

Genji nods, “Of course, master.”

“I think I recall telling you-” and Zenyatta sighs deeply, “- that it wasn’t your fault you didn’t want to be part of the _yakuza._ You didn’t have much of a choice in your favor. It was either go against your personal values, your morals, or go against your family.”

Genji flattens his lips. “Or I could have ran away together with Hanzo. He was the only family that really mattered to me at that point.”

“But you didn’t. Did you think about it back then?”

“I thought about it all the time, but...” Genji bows and shakes his head, “I already knew he wouldn’t agree to it. It was... it was his whole life. I was afraid to even bring it up because I just _knew_ he’d lash out.”

“It doesn’t excuse what he did to you-“ Zenyatta’s lights brighten and he looks right at Genji, “-but I am sorry for your brother. It sounds like he had even less of a choice than you... at least, in his mind.”

“I know. I’m sorry for him, he had his whole life dictated for him, but...” Genji scowls, “If he really cared about me, he must have tried to find another way.”

“Humans have a form of programming too, Genji. I don’t mean to turn this into another lesson, but... just as many omnics couldn’t conceive a life with choices, of being alive back then because of their experiences... You have something too, called culture, that dictates what you think could be choices, what you can _comprehend_ as even possible.”

“You sound like-“ Genji’s eyes narrow, “-like you’re defending him.”

“No.“ The circling of the orbs around them is interrupted by Zenyatta gesturing forcefully, making them move outward and halt. “Didn’t you say you still wanted to forgive him? To understand him more? Of course, we’re just talking hypotheticals.” He stops, cups his hands together, and the orbs move back closer, recharged.

“Genji... d-do you know where he is now?” His voice trembles. “You said you snuffed out most of the Shimada clan.”

“I... I don’t know.” Genji’s hands fall off his lap, down to the cool floor. “By the time I was on my Blackwatch missions, the Shimada clan had gotten disorganized. My brother was nowhere to be found.”

“...” Zenyatta straightens his posture, looks right at Genji. “What does that mean.”

“Either they killed him, or...” He clenches his teeth, “He ran. Hanzo was the most powerful person in the clan by the time Father died, I’ve seen him take down multiple people with ease. And with his two dragons...”

 

He’s looked into their recent history, of the Shimada as they fell, of how he could easily find stories of his own disappearance but not Hanzo’s. He’s heard of stories of an assassin archer out there still, even as far back as during his time in Blackwatch. Rumors of the twin dragons that can only belong to one person.

 

Genji was powerful, and so was the dragon that raged beneath his skin, but what use was that when he’s caught unaware in his own home, without his sword, with the thought that his brother wanted to make peace with him. Instead it was only through his dragon spirit within him that he could fight off Hanzo’s pair, perhaps it was only because it swelled in him as they ripped him to shreds that he was alive.

 

All the cruelty Hanzo did to him, and only to _run away_.

 

And Genji grits his teeth, forces his eyes shut and his tears back. _No, no, you aren’t sure. You shouldn’t get angry over hypotheticals. What if the clan all turned against him?_

 

_...What if his death was all for nothing?_

 

And Genji trembles. Whatever the reason, whatever the merit, he was still betrayed, by brother and family, by luck and life, struck down and made to feel nothing but hatred with his body for years, both cut up and burned by the blades and dragons maw and lightning, and he wonders why Hanzo did it.

 

And if he did run away, why, _why_ did Hanzo only change his mind then? Did he only have shame after killing, too late, too foolish to think before he made his final blow?

 

_“Didn’t he have shame when he put all of his might into destroying me?”_

 

Zenyatta reaches his hand out, seeing Genji quiver, “Are you alright? Do you want to stop, you might want to leave this room-” He shoots a glance at the painting as Genji huffs, cutting him off before he could continue.

 

“I’m fine.”

 

“That came out of nowhere… What have you been thinking about?” Zenyatta bobs closer to Genji, his orbs following him along before their circle tightens around the two of them. Genji just frowns, stiff, hoping that Zenyatta doesn’t see his annoyance, but his body betrays it as his vents pop up too soon and release their vapor and heat.

 

He only scowls more as Zenyatta takes one of the orbs in his hand and sends it back over, glowing gold, but he doesn’t complain or make a fuss as his shoulders relax, his mind settles- _angry, angry still_ \- but banishing every other thought that creeps in uninvited, that only serve to make it more turbulent.

 

And so, he pushes on.

 

“Thanks.”

 

“It is not a problem, my student.” Zenyatta tilts his head. “Are… you sure you want to continue?”

 

“I’m almost there.” Genji leans forward, his eyes dart around the room, as if seeking the revelation he wishes for written around the walls of his room. Something, something from his past that he’s overlooked, another piece to the puzzle of his death.

 

Of Hanzo, always Hanzo, and the many conflicts of him.

 

“It was in spring. Do you know about Golden Week, Master?”

 

“They’re Japanese holidays, right?”

 

“Yes. It’s a very busy time for Hanamura, with tourists often coming by. The cherry blossoms were in bloom, too, we had festivities for those.” Genji’s eyes looks far off.

 

“Hanzo was absent often. Always busy, always in meetings. It felt like a blessing to me, actually, because he was always so angry with me by then and we were fighting constantly.”

 

And again: also a curse. He was anxious, no matter where he was, that suddenly his brother would then be on his case again the moment his meetings were over.

 

“So… it surprised me when he called me out of the blue to have lunch together. I knew his schedule was packed, it was probably his only big spot of free time before Golden Week.”

 

The call, the strangeness to Hanzo’s tone that made perfect sense now but not back then. Sad and awkward and embarrassed of how he treated him- and perhaps- of what he was about to do to him.

 

_Little brother, sorry for the short notice. Meet me at our usual joint for lunch._

 

Genji had wandered far out from the castle and had to ride back quickly, change close, and even then Hanzo had arrived late. Frazzled from a meeting, or hesitant, he doesn’t know.

 

“I was scared. I thought he was going to be mad at me… but he didn’t say much, really, and we just headed inside. I was starving anyway.” Genji manages a smirk, “My appetite hadn’t been the best back then, but when you’ve been standing outside a ramen shop for hours, the smell finally gets to you.”

 

And Zenyatta snickers too, making Genji’s far-off eyes shift to focus on him, making Genji release a breath he didn’t know he held, a tear he couldn’t catch with a blink in time, and he is glad his mask hides it all. He clears his throat.

 

“Then… we sat down for lunch. And I knew, immediately, that Hanzo was miserable. He has this ravenous appetite, usually, and that day it was just. Gone.”

 

“So I got all up in his case about it, made him tell me what was going on. Because I was the family disgrace, and since me and Hanzo were on shitty terms at the time, I was always in the dark about what the clan was up to, I thought it was all about that and that _maybe I could do something_ _for once, if he just told me what was up_.”

 

“He was being kind of a shi- no, stubborn. I almost blew up over it but he just didn’t want it to go that way, he actually _tried_ not to fight me, and before I knew it-” Genji gestures up at his faceplate, “-he was crying. Just a mess. And I don’t know.” He gestures with both hands forward, as if he could almost reach out again and grab his brother’s shoulders.

 

“I just hugged him, I don’t know why. I didn’t even do that when either of our parents died. And I sat there waiting for him to sort things out and cry it out. After all that…” He brings his hands together, “We actually had a nice talk. He told me he was sorry for everything, he told me that he was having it really hard. We were actually _brothers again_ .” He grits his teeth, feels his cheeks tense to dam up the tears as they formed. _“He called me Little Sparrow. I hadn’t heard that since… s-since Father was on his deathbed…”_

 

He catches Zenyatta light up in interest, seeking more of an explanation. Genji instead brings his fingers to his faceplate, trying to wipe at eyes blocked, and then feeling around his head, wondering whether he should take it off.

 

Too late, as the salt stings at the corner of his lips and drips down his chin.

 

“I thought there, in that moment, that things would improve, that we’d talk it out some more. But now…” His hands ball up into fists.

 

“I realized that he only talked to me because he was about to kill me. Like, he had accepted it. He actually asked me, one last time, i-if… If I wanted to be part of the business.”

 

“And what did you say?” Zenyatta’s voice always brings him back to the present, tugged him back into the current world, but just as quickly Genji felt the pull, into the past, into dragon’s maw and rage and fear.

 

When Genji shakes his head, it’s manic, enough to make him feel dizzy, until it dissipates down the rest of his body, until he’s reminded of the orb hovering next to him and its warmth.

 

He stares at his hands, nerves and circuity, at his legs, half salvaged and half completely inhuman. “No. I said no.”

 

And in that moment, his fate was sealed, if it wasn’t already from the beginning.

 

“He was about to kill me. He only talked to me to give me one last shot-” His eyes shut tight, angry at the continued stream, angry at the thought at it’d start dripping out his helmet. “-Or maybe he was just letting my guard down. Either way… he’d already given up on me. He already knew, he… already was going to do it…”

 

He claws his hand over his visor’s eyepiece, scratching at the seam, hesitating, remembering.

 

And Genji reaches out, with his arm, the one completely destroyed.

 

_A dragon betrays the emotions of the one who summons it._

 

Linked by ink and blood and spirit, and when Hanzo struck his back, there was _rage_ , pure rage, rage as Genji fell forward from the shock, split in two. Of numbness and dread with the warmth of the night and candles lit and all sensation stolen away from him, while the rest was fire and electricity. Blue and hot and searing his skin wherever the dragons ripped through him, tore his flesh up.

 

_Genji._

 

And there was the lightning hitting his whole body, the fire running up the cut of his back.

 

_Genji?_

 

And Genji’s eyes are glassy. And he keeps falling forward.

 

_Genji…!_

 

Dragon, desperate, furious, like the one let out when one is about to die,

 

And as the blood flooded over, he let out a strangled glitch, inhuman voice. He lets out Hanzo’s name, Hanzo’s name which was his first, and final word in the house of Shimada.

 

\- - - - - - - - - - 

 

_Gold, gold, gold._

 

Golden week. Golden sunsets. Golden orbs, golden arms.

 

Golden dragon.

 

Genji grapples because he is drowning _(his lungs filled up with fluid)_ his face _(his visor)_ peels off and the light is blinding.

 

(He can breathe. The tears fall away).

 

Dragons blue and furious, dragon gold and desperate.

 

And he is sobbing, and he is hugging his visor to himself. There are a million grasping hands _(chaining him to the ground, pooling with blood, too weak to stand)_ and he fights Hanzo _(he fights Zenyatta)_ as he restrains him _(cradles him)_ and he falls to the floor  _(of his room, of his eventual altar)_ and already, Genji is glowing, and he roars like the dragon in him, the dragon like the one fired at him in his nightmares, fighting the swirling storm, the eyes of Hanzo’s own.

 

 

 

 

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

 

_Golden Iris._

 

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

 

 

 

 

  

(There are memories that bring Genji comfort, memories like himself and his brother in his mother’s arms, young enough to believe their family was normal, young enough to be shielded from the reality of the Shimada clan and the criminal underworld.

 

Young enough to truly be children, innocent, loved.

 

And Mother teases his big brother, and she recounts her favorite story of the little sparrow first learning to talk, and how the very first word he said was Hanzo’s name. _Of course you don’t remember, Genji, you were but a baby,_ and even Hanzo is lost on the details, yet Genji can imagine it perfectly, recreate it thanks to the many family photos they had from that time.

 

He can still remember the tone of her voice and perfectly render new phrases, new names, even if she had never said them before, even if she never had a chance.

 

_You spoke only in babbles and sounds that could be words but weren’t. You were so small, playing with your brother, both of us trying to guide you into saying real things. And then you did, and it was his name: Hanzo. Though it came out more as “Aaaa-zo” and even the ‘z’ came with a lot of spit. It was very cute._

 

_And then we were so surprised and joyous that I called Father over, and he dropped all his work to sit down with us, and over and over we repeated Hanzo’s name so you would do the same. Hanzo, Hanzo, and it made your brother so happy too._

 

Genji wonders, often, always, that if there were only the four of them and nobody else, no criminal empire, if they could have grown up normally, and he thinks this: I would have given up my dragons and my strength any day.

 

_But that isn’t the case.)_

 

 

There are memories that are as comforting as they are sad in hindsight, a reminder of everything he loved and eventually lost. Memories of his father taking him away from the abuses of the rest of the family, of how he called him sparrow. _Little sparrow._

 

And despite all Hanzo has done, he thinks of how he called him sparrow too, with all the same softness in that shone through despite the iron and stone required of anyone heading one of the most dangerous and powerful criminal organizations in the world. Softness, _weakness_ reserved only for him, and he wonders if Hanzo really meant it.

 

And suddenly, Genji wonders, if Hanzo meant to put all his rage in the dragons, as he grapples upon the floor streaming tears. As he sees his own dragon tear through the room.

 

 

Light blue. Green. _Gold._

 

 

And as he wipes his tears away, sweeps the haze of his mind and lets the world come back into focus, he looks up to see Zenyatta.

 

 _He’d only seen the ethereal arms once before,_ that night he asked Zenyatta to be his teacher. It was just one, and for a mere moment, a silly one even. Nothing like the rays of arms reaching out to form a halo, the orbs blinding in their light and releasing an endless sound, like the echoes of bells and gongs, an endless calm sweeping through the room.

 

And in the center of it all is the omnic, hands clapped together and the searing lights on his forehead pressed to his fingertips, charging it all, the halo, whatever heaven it was, and just as suddenly he reaches out like a dancer, to Genji’s dragon, swirling in the room, its roars permeating Genji’s ears whenever the sound of Zenyatta’s own transcendence wavers.

 

But Zenyatta’s light is more intense, putting the gold of the painting to shame, beating the bright green fire of the spirit storming around the room. Until Genji’s dragon stops raging and spitting sparks, until it resolves to simply move in a circle about Zenyatta, spirit soothed. And basking in the halo, it doesn’t look green, but gold, gold, _gold_.

 

 _“Do not be afraid, Genji.”_ Zenyatta’s voice breaks through, as he gazes upon the Iris.

 

 

 

 

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

 

 

 

  

Genji’s arms are still shaking, long after it all subsides. Perched upon the edge of the bed, he looks around, at the walls blown open in places.

 

He is quiet as he watches Zenyatta at the center of the room. He seems normal, save for the odd… tiredness of his arms as he conducts the movements of an orb with their sweeping gestures. Sluggish, not quite as precise.

 

It’s still mesmerizing despite that, with how his dragon dances to follow the orb, flickering, a fading green though enough to cast lights upon Zenyatta’s shining metal. And finally, he turns to Genji, guides the one orb to stop just in front of him.

 

Genji breathes deep, takes in the heat as his dragon follows and dissipates like smoke around him, back beneath his skin.

 

_Inhale, Exhale._

 

The room is so much colder now, with the damage done, with the energy gone. Zenyatta lowers himself slowly, until his feet make a clink upon the floor. They then look at each other in unison.

 

Zenyatta, his orbs floating strangely low and out of any sensical alignment, his lights incredibly dim, his arms slack to the sides.

 

Genji, his face bared, red eyes, salty cheeks, lips both scarred and synthetic flattened upon seeing the other. He then turns away in shame, his hands grasping harder at his fallen visor until he can feel the metal edge dig deep enough to hurt.

 

Zenyatta steps towards him, and still, Genji looks away, until those fully metallic fingers nudge against his, until Zenyatta gently unwraps his hands from around the faceplate. He sets it down beside Genji on the bed so he could then squeeze Genji’s palms fully.

 

_“I’m so sorry, Genji.”_

 

“No. No, it was my fault, I…”

“Shh.” Zenyatta bows to meet his eye level. “You can wait a little before we talk about it, if it’s too much.”

 

Genji shakes his head, “I… I could have killed you.”

 

“I’m fine. It was an accident, I forgive you.”

 

Genji bows his head even lower to avoid his gaze. Zenyatta sighs, squeezes his hands once more, before sitting down next to Genji.

 

\- - - - - - - - - - 

 

“Zenyatta.” Genji speaks up after a while, after the whirring of their bodies settle and the night breeze has permeated the room with relative cold. Strange, when it was basically summer. “Were you scared?”

 

“What?” He tilts his head at Genji.

 

“Be honest. How did you feel when… ugh.” He puts his thumb and forefinger to his temples and rubs at them. “Actually, okay, tell me what happened first, w-when did I lose it?”

 

“Only at the very end.” Zenyatta’s dots light up in patterns as he seems to recall, “You were talking about how Hanzo seemed resigned to what he was about to do. And then you reached your hand out to me, and I saw your eyes...” Zenyatta tugs Genji’s wrist off his lap and unto his side, squeezes it once more, this time with the soothing static.

 

“You looked out of it, and it all happened so fast. You started glowing green and I reacted on instinct.” He stops, whirs louder for a moment. “You’re right. I was scared. I did that out of self-preservation.”

 

“Alright.” Genji glances away, pulls his hand away from Zenyatta’s. “I… I- hmm.” And his brows knit together, and he hums in thought.

 

“What is it?”

 

“I could never remember for sure what happened in that moment. Now I’m sure, I’m sure-” His eyes widen, “-I wasn’t just saved by my dragon spirit _within_ me, I had enough fight back, I actually summoned it out. And maybe...”

 

Genji smirks at Zenyatta as he leans closer, curious.

 

“And what?”

 

“I know I didn’t black out immediately, Hanzo, I saw him, he _said_ something, I might have even crawled on the floor or… I don’t know.” He thumps his hands down on the mattress, “Zenyatta. My dragon is linked with my spirit, my _emotions_ , I _must_ have been conscious if I was able to summon it and focus long enough to fight Hanzo’s dragons, redirect them… maybe even Hanzo himself-”

 

The smirk grows into a grin, and just as quickly is snuffed out by Genji growling in frustration, head so suddenly in his hands. “But I still can’t fucking _remember_ what he said, and after _all that_ , I’m probably going to end up burning down this whole place if I try again-”

 

“Shhh.” Zenyatta pats over Genji’s back, nudges his one Orb of Harmony closer to him. “That’s enough.” He then looks around the holes in the walls, and continues much more softly, “And someone might hear that out of context.”

 

Genji snorts at least, and though his smile is sad it’s, well, a smile, and that’s enough for Zenyatta to see.

 

Genji then droops. “Master, I… I understand if you would want to stop doing this.”

 

Zenyatta shakes his head. “I’m not giving up unless you are, my student- Genji-” His lights flare as he nods his head forward, “-I think we learned something important today. But I’ve also realized that, hmm. We might need to take some time before we do this again.”

 

“Yeah.” Genji scratches at his hairline, “I get that.”

 

“Genji, before anything… I need to _stress_ , I need you to understand. I-I can’t fix all of your problems.”

 

“Oh, no, Zenyatta... of course not. This is _my_ battle to fight, and I don’t want to ask too much of you.”

 

“Alright.” He takes his orb with its light fading from where it floats, making a deep sigh strangely off his usual tone, with more of a lagged echo. Zenyatta hugs it to his chest, making it glow bright once more, before placing it in Genji’s grasp. Genji immediately notices that despite being charged with energy, it is incredibly heavy. He knits his brow, and looks back to Zenyatta.

 

“You should recover, Master.” That… whatever it was, whatever he did, it took a lot out of him.

 

“Alright. I shall. Should I let the others know about this? What else do you think would help?”

 

“Hmm.” Genji brings the orb close to catch its warmth. “I want to be alone. I don’t want anyone to see me right now, we can do something about the room later. I’d really appreciate some water, though... And something easy to eat. Whoever comes can just leave it at the door.”

He watches as Zenyatta stands up and simply hums in understanding.

 

“Master, tell them, whoever comes, that I’m very thankful, and I’ll see them and the rest of the Shambali at the late morning meditation.”

 

“Alright, my student. Anything more?” Zenyatta reaches down to gather his orbs in his arms, with them otherwise only hovering a few inches off the floor at this point.

 

“...Please, _please_ get some rest.” Genji bends over to pick up some of the orbs and then latches unto Zenyatta’s wrists after handing them over. They stare right at each other.

 

“Zenyatta. I can save myself.”

 

“I know.” Zenyatta leans closer, peers into those eyes he’s never really seen before, brown eyes with an intensity that had always been hidden until now. “I know you can, Genji. I’ve _seen_ you do it.”

 

“J-just stay by my side while I do that, okay?” He blinks away as his eyes threaten to glaze over with tears. “I can do this. I just don’t want to be alone.”

 

And Genji jolts as Zenyatta’s hand glances over his cheek, strokes it so delicately along the line of a tear, and then wipes it away. “Me and the Shambali would never desert you. Genji. If you also need more resources, human doctors, then don’t hesitate to ask. We can help you get those, too.”

 

Zen’s hand moves away, back to haphazardly bundle the many orbs. Genji nods and rubs at his eyes, “I’ll think about it. Thank you…” He picks up the orb from his lap, raises it, “For this, too. I’ll get it back to you soon.”

 

Zenyatta seems to look him over one last time, making absolutely sure, before he nods and turns for the door, almost heads out.

 

Genji then sniffles.

 

“...Should we also get you tissues?”

 

 

“Yeah, sure.”

 

And when Genji chuckles, Zenyatta can’t help but do the same.


	15. With All I Have

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Genji looks back on what has changed and he realizes some very important things.
> 
> He knows what he wants.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Back to regular update schedule, hopefully. This chapter starts out continuing on some of the distressing stuff from last time but then it gets... well, sweeter. :3c
> 
> 3k-ish, not a beast this time, enjoy and heyo, if you've already left kudos, consider a comment, I re-read them like. Constantly and you guys are the best~

In the haze of thoughts before he wakes up, he sees Hanzo with sword drawn and charging.

 

He sees himself, young, looking up at the tapestry and clueless that in moments, his blood would splatter unto it. And in a golden glow, the flash as blade meets skin, his perspective shifts back to his own point of view.

 

Multitudes of thoughts come rushing, perhaps they did back then just as they do now: His mental voice berates him, _Genji, Genji,_  this is what you get for being the rebel. For sneaking off, for being a playboy, for being irresponsible, for not following your family’s wishes.

 

You get this: his blade, and you dying on the floor of the home that didn’t have room for you anymore.

 

The vision does not waver. Genji lets out a choked gasp, Hanzo’s name. Not a scream, not a glitch. Quiet, weakening as the twin dragons bear down on him, and he realizes he’s drowning, his lungs are filling up.

 

Red. So much red, and his head hurts and he can’t see anything. Dizzy and paralyzed, the floor is cold with the night but warm with something else.

 

 _Blood, blood,_ and as his eyes close he wishes to accept it, imagine it like the embrace of a lover, like the warmth of the sun, to forget the rest of his pain as he dies.

 

_But he has to fight, he has to lift himself up-_

 

Genji can barely feel his hands, and yet, one scratches desperately at the floor, feeling his spirit stir, his dragon coiling up as adrenaline boils, threatening to burst out the gash on his back.

 

His vision comes in and out of focus, his eyelids are heavy, and he feels as if he’s about to empty himself, inside-out-

 

_And he’s floating, like a spirit through the room, and he’s grappling, with the dragons, strong like a storm._

 

 _And his spirit shoots up,_ high above the house of Shimada, a great roar into the night.

 

 _And then too quickly,_ he is pulled back down, pulled back before everything could shine so clear, and he realizes he’s waking, and he grapples at the floor again, grapples for the rest of the vision.

 

 _And then there’s red,_ again, _so much red_. Hanzo and his eyes and the splatter across his cheeks. His face emotionless, or a mix of so many that he can’t tell which is which.

 

But then. There’s regret.

 

 

And then, Genji’s home.

 

\- - - - - - - - - - 

  

The morning is unusually cold as Genji snaps awake, hugging the orb close to his chest. He groans and rolls himself unto his back, blinking and rubbing at his eyes. There’s a soreness to the dark circles beneath them, and his lashes are encrusted with the unfortunate remains of crying too much.

 

And then he sees the holes in the wall, and remembers how he’s taken his helmet off completely. It explains the cold all too well, actually. Genji sits up, squeezes the heavy orb in his hand as he looks around.

 

Save for the holes and the burn marks around them, there isn’t much damage. He can see his sheathed sword, peeking out of where he stowed and hidden it away, perhaps after falling out in the night. The dragon painting is still there, pristine, as are his clothes, his other belongings.

 

Genji sits, reflects on his dreams as he looks around, before getting up. He puts the sword back in its place, feels over wood and fibers to see if they’ve been singed. He sneaks a peek out one of the holes and simply hums when the view is surprisingly nice. He tidies up some of the belongings that perhaps have been turned over by his dragon, swept up in its winds.

 

He finds his journal among them, and then he sees the old picture of his face from an old life _(No, no, it’s you. Just you, the same you you are now)_ and this time his palm doesn’t hide the person he’s only ever seen recently in flashbacks and nightmares.

 

Hanzo is there, with him. He sees this face, awkwardly framed by his really bad fringe, and he remembers the one in his visions. He remembers the knitted brow and the intensity of those eyes, tries to picture those same hazily recalled features upon the clear photograph before him.

 

And Genji remembers, of a time back when they were brothers. Genji remembers seeing _regret_.

 

Despite everything, he smirks. His thumb feels over the material of the photo, glossy for the most part but with the texture scratched out in some areas. He wonders if he should frame it, at least keep it somewhere safer.

 

Then there’s a knock at the door. Genji pauses to stare at it, before leaving the photo on his desk and stepping forward. As he does, the orb in his other hand loses weight, and Genji soon sees it glowing, floating, gold. After a beat of just staring at it, he jolts forward to open the door, and sure enough, it’s Zen.

 

Hovering off the floor, the lights on his faceplate bright, his orbs back to their neat circle around his neck. Genji’s orb floats back up into formation among them and after watching it, his gaze moves back up to focus on Zenyatta’s eyes.

 

There’s a bit of a pause before Zenyatta chuckles sheepishly, his voice back to its usual quality, and he raises a hand up in a peace sign. “Good morning, Genji.”

 

Genji tilts his head and smiles wider, “Good morning. Glad to see you’ve recharged.” Then he looks back down, to Zenyatta’s other hand, noticing that he’s carrying a bowl.

 

“I’m feeling better, yes. How are you? I’ve brought you breakfast.” Zenyatta looks around the room before making the sound of clearing one's throat, “May I come in?”

 

Genji’s eyes brighten and he gestures into the room, “Go ahead. I’m… better, I think, but I’ll see how I feel after some food.” Genji takes the bowl from Zenyatta as he floats in and closes the door before sitting down at his usual spot by the window.

 

Rice porridge, a staple, but with a huge helping of vegetables in the soup, which makes it a favorite. Genji plays with it, swirls it around a bit, and upon taking a small spoonful he finds his appetite returning to him. He then starts chowing down, humming happily when he sees Zenyatta glow brighter in the corners of his vision, enough that he can hear the faint trilling of his orbs as well.

 

It only grows louder, interspersed with pleasant bells as Genji continues to eat, and after a while he turns to Zenyatta, cheeks stuffed, and sees the dots on his head making patterns as they blink on and off, his hands tightly laced together in excitement.

 

“What?” Genji still manages to smirk as he chews.

 

“O-oh-” Zenyatta jolts, his orbs stopping their sound, “-I’m… just happy, yes, that you’re looking better.”

 

“Mmmm.” Genji nods, then gulps down. He takes a smaller spoonful and then his face turns more focused as he leans forward. He lowers his bowl. “Though you should know, after all that… I did have another dream- nightmare- last night.”

 

Zenyatta freezes. Voice more concerned, “W-was it bad? What was it about?”

 

“I don’t know, it was a lot of unpleasant things, but…” He bites his lip, “It wasn’t as much of a mess unlike my other dreams. And another thing.” Genji looks into the bowl and watches the vegetables float around some more. “I don’t know if this was reality. But I saw Hanzo, and… He looked guilty. He was sad. It makes me wonder even more why he did it, but, it’s weird.” He breathes deeply. “It’s comforting that he _might_ have cared enough to feel bad about it after doing it. He’s still a shitty brother for doing all that, but… Yeah.”

 

Genji knits his brows together, “I’ll think about it more later. There was more to it-”

 

_(-Souring high above the castle Shimada, feeling your spirit waver and crash back down)._

 

“Hmmm.” Zenyatta nods. “But if you think about it, this means, what you did last night…”

 

Genji smiles, “It helped me clear some things, maybe. Your orb helped too.” He puts the bowl on the floor. “Though since these are just memories, I can’t really trust them. I need to. Mmmngh.” He flattens his lips. “I probably need to go back to Hanamura and investigate. Get some cold hard facts.”

 

Zenyatta is quiet for a while, simply taps his fingers together. And then, “You know, we have a few peacekeeping missions in the near future.”

 

Genji raises a brow. “What do you mean?”

 

“Nothing’s final yet, the security concerns are hard to negotiate. But Brother Mondatta’s planning on taking the Shambali to some large cities. Paris, Manila…” He looks right at Genji, leans forward, “Tokyo.”

 

“That’s… That’s just a short ride away from Hanamura.”

 

“Exactly.” Zenyatta floats lower, closer to Genji’s level. “If we have time, perhaps we can look into it.” He then reaches to squeeze his shoulder. “No pressure, though. I know it’s, ah, likely a complicated feeling going to your birthplace.”

 

Genji glances at Zenyatta’s hand, then back at his face. He gulps. “It’s been a while. I mean, last time I went it was to kill someone. But it’s worth a shot.”

 

“Yes. I think so too.”

 

“And I’ll have you with me.” Genji raises his bowl again, takes another big helping and then smiles at Zenyatta with cheeks, again, full like a hamster.

 

(Zenyatta chuckles at that, voice ever so gentle, and it’s always worth it.)

 

Once he’s finished his meal, Genji stands and places the bowl on the desk. “I guess it’s still a few months along if you’re still planning it. We’ve got time to think it over.” He looks out the window, makes a pleased hum. “Thank you again for breakfast, Zen.”

 

“No problem. And true, it might still be as far away as next year. We don’t need to rush this, we could-” He follows Genji’s actions, watches his hands until his gaze falls upon the photo, and Zenyatta moves closer, transfixed by the image. Genji looks dumbfounded by his sudden silence, until he looks back at the photo as well.

 

He steps back, lets Zenyatta pick it up. The omnic seems to gaze upon it for ages, and then after a while, he looks back at Genji’s face.

 

Scratched up and scarred, but still the same.

 

“Uh. Yeah.” Genji looks sheepish as he scratches at his nape. “That’s me and my brother. I think I was about, hmm, 21 in that photo? Something like that.”

 

“I see.” Zenyatta turns his head to and fro, comparing the picture to the face. “Your hair was-”

 

“Very green, I know.” Genji snorts. “It’s been lots of colors, but I was really fond of that. Even if it might look a little silly in hindsight.”

 

“No, no. It suits you… As does your hair now.” Zenyatta tilts his head, admiring the other as Genji pouts and reaches up to comb his fingers through his slightly bed-tousled locks.

 

“Really? I’m going grey in my early thirties, not exactly ideal.” He feels through where he remembers a prominent streak of it is, “Even if it runs in my family. Stress does it too, I guess, and I’ve had plenty of that.”

 

He offers a smile though, and Zenyatta sees the deepened dimples, the faint creases over his brow, gentle crow’s feet, and wrinkles framing the dark circles of his eyes. Eyes, deep brown. Gold, _gold_ where they catch the light off his orbs.

 

“And you have beautiful irises.”

 

“Wh- what-” Genji sputters.

 

“I- I mean.” Zenyatta’s dots all light up white, much brighter than they usually are, before cooling back to their soft blue. “You are a lovely soul.”

 

Genji pouts and blinks at him for a few moments, before he turns away with his face redder, the vents on his shoulders releasing large puffs of steam. “T-thanks.”

 

“Yes.” Zenyatta makes a sigh, his orbs moving in and out.

 

“Anyway...” Genji crosses his arms. “You know. About the Iris...” Genji glances back at him. “I felt it last night.”

 

“Oh?” the omnic moves closer.

 

“When you did, uh.” Genji’s face scrunches up for a moment, trying to find the right words to explain something so profound, and then he gestures outward in quick defeat. “What _did_ you do last night? With all the _arms_ and _glowing_ and just. Wow. I didn’t know you could do that.”

 

“Ah. Hmm.” Zen looks down for a moment, thinking of a reply, and then back at him. “It’s a similar energy to the one I use to charge my orbs, only turned up all the way. And as I’ve said, I see the Iris as something within me, as an aspect of my soul and also something expressed within the way I use my power.” He puts his hand to his chest, “It is a protective power. The Iris protects me. An Orb of Harmony soothes my mind and that of others, while _that_ … that shields me and those around me from, err, everything, by, I guess you can say... Transcending my normal state of being.”

 

He stops to look at Genji, wide-eyed and gawking.

 

“Err, I know it’s quite unbelievable, I don’t do it often as it can be quite taxing…”

 

“No, it’s just that you keep surprising me.” Genji shuts his mouth and makes a lopsided smirk. “You’re something else.”

 

“Hahah~ I have a few tricks up my sleeve.”

 

“It was breathtaking.” Genji looks down, and gently takes his photo back from Zenyatta. He looks over himself, his proud stance, his green hair, his eyes.

 

His eyes, and though they are augmented now, they are in many ways still the same.

 

(His eyes, which Zenyatta called _beautiful_ , though he pretends he didn’t know what he meant.)

 

“You know what, Zen?”

 

“Yes, Genji?”

 

Genji closes his eyes and smiles as he moves to put the photo back between the pages of his old journal, to hide it amongst his things.

 

“Your Iris is beautiful, too.”

 

\- - - - - - - - - - 

  

The Shambali were all surprised when Genji came down for the late morning meditation, helmet back on but with his eyepiece off. Even with most of their faces unable to convey their gazes, Genji felt them all stare, and not just because he had outfitted himself in their white robes, not just because he arrived with Zenyatta floating so closely by his side.

 

Master Mondatta isn’t there to tell the others off for gawking, _most likely busy with future plans_ , Genji thinks. He sits down next to Zenyatta, and Sister Aziza leads the meditation rites instead.

 

Genji isn’t too good at focusing this time around, though he bows his head and closes his eyes, just enough that he could still see the other Shambali’s blurry forms around him. He keeps still.

 

Some monks simply sat, some hovered, some only seemed to hover when they were deep in thought.

 

And they are _different_ , all so different. Sister Aziza easily the biggest among them, twice as wide as Zen and at least a foot taller, such vast palms held up like a prayer, the singular light on her forehead dimmed and probably off elsewhere to show that she’s concerned with matters beyond this realm.

 

Sachi looks very similar to Zenyatta, their face plates the same, though theirs is more matte and with just two dots right above their eye slots like glowing little dog eyebrows. They float around standing instead of sitting, though, and sometimes when no one else is looking, Genji would catch them just speeding dangerously around halls and corners and leaning their whole body to the motion. It’s a secret Genji kept for them, in exchange for Sachi getting a _few_ details on some of his most scandalous past partners. Genji regrets sharing that tiny amount of gossip.

 

Jam’s an incredibly short omnic with a floating head, and though he’s often annoyed at being unable to meet anyone else at eye level and being unable to hover normally, when he meditates he tends to shoot right up to the ceiling of the room and stay there until it was over. He often shares Genji tips on mindfulness (he especially bothered him with so many after that whole incident with him falling asleep) and Genji helps carry him on top of counters.

 

Marzi’s absolutely unable to hide the fact that she’s scrutinizing Genji with her screen of a face showing her squinting right at his general direction. Marzi likes gossip a bit too much, and turning a few past lovers into thousands in her stories, probably, but she’s always there with information when Genji needs some.

 

_The Shambali came from all sorts of different walks. And they didn’t all agree with each other on everything, but they are home, and they are family._

 

Sister Aziza walks over to Genji once everyone finishes, waggling her fingers over her eye slots like upturned eyebrows. And she asks, “What happened last night, what happened to your room?”

 

Zenyatta steps forward, ready to stop her from prying, but then Genji lightly nudges him back.

 

“It’s okay, Master.” He then turns to the other, “I had a rough night… Guess I ended up causing some damage but, uh, I’ll help fix it and find a new room in the meantime. I’m fine now.”

 

Genji pauses, then bows. “Thank you for your concern- _whuh_!”

 

  

 

Sister Aziza, largest among the Shambali, also gave excellent bear hugs, with her padded arms and soft robes. Genji wiggles his feet as he’s lifted off them, and he watches as the others who happened to be eavesdropping approach.

 

Once he’s put back on the floor he’s left to reassure the others, “ _Yes I’m feeling better”, “Master Zenyatta and I are sorting things out very well”, “Shit sorry I didn’t realize the whole monastery heard that mess I made last night”,_ and finally, _“Okay, I suppose a hug does help”._

 

And he breaks into a grin as the others give him pats on the back, small squeezes. He only breaks out of the room when it becomes a contest of who can hug him the hardest.

  

Zenyatta then leads him out to the hallway with a giggle, escaping Marzi’s endless scoping for more details, and only when they get around the corner does he wrap his own arms around Genji and embrace him tightly.

 

 _Zenyatta is different, so different_ , with his orbs kind of in the way and the lack of armor and padding in some parts of his body making pistons and joints jab a little harder. His hands are a bit too large, expressively so, but they feel all the more soothing when they stroke his shoulderblades.

 

“I am so proud of you,” he says, in that deep and calming voice, and Genji squeezes him back.

 

\- - - - - - - - - - 

 

 _Once upon a time, he thought omnics would be cold,_ cold like mere metal, but he’s learned since then that all their processing, each unique thought, makes them sear hot with their souls.

 

And Zenyatta is different, so different, warm but not just in his arms. He’s also warmth in Genji’s cheeks and in the nerves he thought withered long ago. Warm like the sun in his heart.

 

And Genji is alive, and he is here.

 

And Genji is alive, and he thinks, _this is worth it_.

 

He is alive, and he thinks, _at least this time, I’m not alone_.

 

And his eyes close, and he whispers a thank-you, and as he hugs Zenyatta tighter he wants to imagine it like the embrace of a lover. He wants this, His Iris, his life.

 

And Zenyatta is here, and Genji thinks this:

 

_I want to love him completely. Mind, Body, and Soul._


	16. Memories

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Genji accompanies the Shambali to France, a far cry from the quiet at the monastery.
> 
> Zenyatta finds himself with a lot to think about during the peace mission.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, this ended up posting late anyway, oops! This chapter was hard to write, and I think the next will be too, a little lull as we ease into the start of the last act. :b
> 
> Lots of different scenes this chapter though, 5.4k words, despite the struggle ultimately I think it's swell. It's like 3am, forgive any big typos lmao.
> 
> Thanks, as usual, for your patience and your feedback!

There are memories Genji keeps with him, memories that come back vividly to him as he looks out the window of the train and sees the French countryside sweeping past.

 

Memories in all their colors, streaks of orange and auburn and gold, and though they’re brilliant here, Genji still thinks Japan is most beautiful in the autumn.

 

Beautiful like Hanamura’s trees in their orange-red, beautiful like it was when he hastily set up together a first date, when Hanzo had just gotten his license and Genji bothered him until he’d agreed to give him and some boy from one of the city districts a ride out.

 

In the city the skylines could be suffocating, and the parks felt smaller each year, but further out and closer to the mountain they gave way to _just_ trees, much humbler in stature to the buildings and yet all the more beautiful.

 

Back then, Genji was shy and new and nowhere the playboy and flirt he’d come to be, but by all accounts, it was a good first date. He’d remember it often, especially when he’d take the hypertrain and see that mountain from his seat in first class: a comfort on his trips to and from Hanamura.

 

But despite all that, he never memorized that face. Genji never went on more than a few dates before it quickly grew awkward, before he ran out of things to talk about, before his realization.

 

He could never give anyone a normal life with him in the yakuza.

 

Anyone who wanted a normal life would inevitably break his heart, because he didn’t have the heart to take their freedom away from them, either, to expose them to all its dangers.

 

He could look to his parents for inspiration in a world where sometimes marriages were more for convenience, or just plain loveless. He could see his father’s proud face, a soft smile in those little moments. Stroking his mother’s hand as they kissed, closer and closer till the dragon on her arm would kiss against that on his chest. Passionate, and comforting, and endless an affection in the world of darkness and crime.

 

But his mother was part of this world to begin with, ready from the start to join the lord of dragons, to rise up in a clan of assassins and return home with a bloody blade and a stern brow.

 

And Genji could never be that, never be a Shimada. Never be part of, much less lead one of the most powerful families and criminal organizations. Much less love someone, and make them suffer together with him.

 

Once he realized that he couldn’t ever really love, ever stay by someone’s side, each lover’s face started to look like the rest in fleeting nights, with names attached to them that started to become repetitive. Dates lost their meaning.

 

And so Person Number One became just a boy with vague features. But the background of the day in all its lovely fall colors and the things they did and said are still clear to Genji. And it’s a happy memory, because it reminds him of his innocence, because it was truly sweet, and yet Genji mourns that he couldn’t remember that face, that nothing came of it, or _could_ have developed from it. He’d once heard someone say: you never forget your first love.

 

(He wondered if he’d ever known love at all, and not simply craved their approval and company. Because how selfish was it that he remembered sex and lovers’ bodies curled together in bed, but little else?)

 

At least he didn’t forget how it felt. Physical pleasure at a time where his life gave him nothing to hope for, dream for. And there are memories that made him sad in hindsight at their context, but he can’t afford to doubt them.

 

He never forgot how the trees looked, he only remembered them more vividly, enough that it gave him a pang of homesickness to see the French countryside. He wanted to see those autumn trees on the hypertrain to Hanamura again, even if he feared to return to Japan.

 

The Shambali trip to Tokyo was still possible, last time he’d heard from Zen, though it would still be next year if it pushed through.

 

For now, they were headed to Paris, and truly- France was radiant in the autumn- though few things could come close to the original.

 

That damn first date.

 

But _then_ he turns to look at Zenyatta seated across him, the omnic also looking out the window. And he can’t say anything as the other Shambali are also seated quietly close by. But when Genji sees those same colors reflected on Zenyatta’s faceplate, he wonders if he has to reevaluate his mental rankings of most beautiful autumns.

 

(Number three: French countryside. Number two: The maple and ginkgo trees outside his home city. Number one: …)

 

He’d never thought, back then, that he’d memorize little chips and scratches on metal, that he’d memorize a face as completely as he did Zenyatta’s.

 

\- - - - - - - - - -

 

Paris had been scheduled for the middle of their trip, after their quiet outreaches away from the city centers, and the crowds of people that greet them once they arrive overwhelm Genji with more noise and hustle and bustle than he’s had in year.

 

Even wearing the robes, he felt he stood out amongst the Shambali. As a student, he walked  alongside a few new omnic acolytes, as well as some other human guest students who have been with the Shambali the past season or so.

 

Genji knew the other humans weren’t going to stay at the monastery for too long, and so, he avoided them, but there was the strangeness of just being close, of seeing them turn their faces and talk to each other and emote while Genji opted to go in his full helmet, still paranoid that somehow, someway, an eagle-eyed Shimada or Blackwatch hunter or some other enemy would recognize him. _(That, and he wasn’t the prettiest sight.)_

 

There was the strangeness of seeing the crowd too, and while many faces are omnic there are just as many that aren’t.

 

And with that, he squeezes past the other humans and ducks his head behind Sister Bailey, lets his metal head blend in with those of the monks. If only he could hover and look far ahead; he’s curious as he hears Mondatta’s voice blast from some speakers, curious as there’s no doubt that Zenyatta’s close behind his brother, and far far ahead of the acolytes in the procession.

 

After the introduction and Mondatta’s starting speech, he needed to find Zen and accompany him on another one of his advice sessions. _Not just a bodyguard_ , Zenyatta stressed, but also as someone human who could help him view things differently and give more meaningful discussion.

 

 _No pressure_ , Zenyatta said, though the crowd wasn’t helping his nerves. It’d settle whenever he heard Mondatta speak, and then it was thundering applause whenever he paused a bit too long or made a good point. Witnessing it made Genji imagine himself there at the front, speaking on behalf of an entire community, having to sound like a wise leader when that's what he ran from.

 

The crowd he’d be facing for the rest of the day was going to be much smaller, but it was still going to be a daunting amount like what he’d witnessed back in Argentina.

 

 _I don’t expect you to know French, of course_ , Zenyatta’s voice in his head reminds him, and it’s true, Genji doesn’t have to speak back to all the guests- perhaps helping Zenyatta out in whispers here and there was enough.

 

 _I know, I know, but I’d probably give shit advice considering my life, so it’s for the best that I don’t_ ,  he says back to his imagination.

 

Zenyatta is the one who plucks him out of the crowd after the speech, and Genji is thankful to be tug along behind him and get on their car.

 

He’s perhaps less thankful, though, when their ride passes by the lines outside their venue, their neat rows threatening to fall asunder any moment as he can _feel_ the entire crowd swaying their bodies to see them better. _Waiting_ for them.

 

Zenyatta looks out the car windows and simply hums. He turns to Genji, “Well, are you ready?”

 

Genji has to look out for a while, still in disbelief.

 

_This is a lot more people than there were in Argentina._

 

He sighs, cracks his knuckles before turning back to Zen. “I think I can handle this.”

 

 

\- - - - - - - - - -

 

Sat next to Zenyatta for _hours_ , Genji could easily pick up the new quirks his voice takes on when he uses a slightly different voicebank, the familiar reverberations and filters only through a language he isn’t used to hearing from him. He wonders, often, how much of it is from Zenyatta’s days in acting, speaking in as many different roles as there were languages installed in his system, with the inflection from each of those roles long ago still spilling over to his everyday speech.

 

And he wants to know it perfectly, the way Zenyatta’s voice sounds this time, quieter and more wispy. He wonders why it’s so gentle, wonders if there’s a reason to it.

 

Mondatta once approached him, told him that Zenyatta’s Japanese had gotten more forceful if only from speaking to Genji so often, and Genji just nodded and admitted, _yeah, still have the tongue of a yakuza kid out in the streets sometimes_.

 

He thinks, he’ll keep the swears to himself, the visitors looking for good advice do not need to hear them… except in quiet, giggled discussion with Zenyatta, who’d then give them the visitors the cleaner version.

 

Genji still gets stares. Humans who assume he is an omnic and then take a second guess, omnics who are perplexed. People curious of the figure sat in Shambali robes next to the more famous Zenyatta, too cladded in metal to be all flesh, and yet with his forms too organic, his voice too unmodified and his breathing too real. People tended to be able to pick up on these things, subconsciously or not.

 

In the end, he could only guess what they thought. Genji keeps his mask on, regardless. They didn’t all need to know the answer.

 

\- - - - - - - - - -

 

A few hours in, they take a break, and Genji asks this: “Have you ever been to France before this?”

 

Zenyatta simply bobs in the sun, and Genji hears the whirr of solar converters and the flow of coolant, and his master chuckles and nods. “A few times. The first time was for my Nutcracker performances.”

 

Genji leans close “Isn’t the Nutcracker usually a ballet? Isn’t ballet like… huge here?”

 

“Genji.” Zenyatta stiffens, remembering Genji’s prying about the role in the past. “Uhmmm… Yes, yes it was a ballet.”

 

“You must be amazing at it, then?” Genji moves in even closer, practically elbowing Zenyatta, and the omnic crosses his arms in reply.

 

“I performed with a children’s troupe! I can’t dance anywhere close to the level of a professional…Not that the children were bad, no, they were incredibly talented and wonderful to work with.” His arms relax. ”It’s just that my co-lead at that production was their instructor, and you should have seen her skill. It _far_ surpassed mine.”

 

“I see.” Genji smirks. _Children’s troupe. That explains it._  “Was it hard to learn how to do ballet back then?”

 

“Even for omnics, choreography that involves an entire dance troupe simply isn’t something you can program and be done with once it’s memorized once, so yes. I had to go through it many times. I couldn’t float back then, either, which would have made it easier for me.”

 

“So you can dance _better_ now that you can float?”

 

“You seem so keen to know~” Zenyatta lightly pushes Genji away. “Fine, fine.I’ll show you when we aren’t busy.”

 

Genji grins and is about to hop back unto his feet and towards the meeting area, with the end of their break period hanging over them. Then Zenyatta tugs on his arm.

 

“It’d only be fair for you to show me your own moves, Genji.”

 

“Wh- No, no way.”

 

_There are memories Genji would rather forget, and among them are his club dance moves from the 2060s._

 

“It’d only be fair, my student.”

 

“Master, we’ll discuss this one after this is done.” And he puffs his cheeks and heads out.

 

\- - - - - - - - - -

 

It’s a little while before Genji steps out of his relative silence. A particularly colorful and curious omnic tries to learn his name, asking who he is and whether he had universal languages installed.

 

Genji thought it’d be rude not to answer, and so he goes: “ _No, I don’t, so I can’t speak French. But can you speak Japanese? I mean, I guess practically all omnics know English too and you can understand this-”_

 

And the omnic switches to his mother tongue, and Genji continues with a smile hidden under his faceplate. “I’m Genji, I’m a student of Master Zenyatta. Pleased to meet you.”

 

Zenyatta switches as well, making the other omnic jolt as his voice turns more forceful, but to Genji it’s his most familiar and comforting tone. “Please, share your concerns.”

 

“You’re a teacher, uh, Master… Brother Zenyatta? Uh, sorry I don’t know what to call you-”

 

“Either It’s fine-” Zen chuckles, “-we are all brothers in the Iris.”

 

“Though he’s kind of just _my_ Master, formally.” Genji says.

 

“I see, I see, sorry, I’m so nervous.” The omnic rocks around slightly, “So, Brother Zenyatta, you’re a teacher and, err, so am I, well I’ve just gotten a job to be one at an elementary school. With human children, obviously.” He clasps his hands together and makes a deep sigh. “I’m really worried they won’t like me, because I’m an _omnic._ I haven’t even picked a name for myself yet!” And he throws his hands up with such sudden force that Genji almost falls back.

 

“I-I can’t walk around being called, what, Teacher GGP-036, I won’t be able to relate to them at all, and I still have to do all the name declaration forms and records and-”

 

“Brother,” Zenyatta takes a deep breath, which seems to make the other pause. “Let’s do this one at a time.”

 

“Okay. Okay. Got this.” The omnic nods incessantly, “Sorry, uh, I’m prone to recursive thoughts. Probably from all them modifications I had added.”

 

 _“Happens to the best of us.”_ Genji says, and gets a chuckle in reply.

 

“Brother, you’ve only recently felt the Iris, yes?” Zenyatta leans forward.

 

“Y-yes.” The omnic nods, “It’s all been so hectic, I quitted my old job that I’ve been in for _years_ , found an apartment, tried to really express myself with all these decals and mods… It feels like  I’m so far behind everyone who realized sooner.”

 

“You still have time. Time to make your life, make decisions. A mistake many of us make when we first find the Iris is to rush things. We become so determined to show people that we have souls-”

 

“Yeah! Yeah.” The omnic shuffles closer. “I didn’t know there was a world outside, and now I’m here, all the others around me like… I’m trying to keep up.”

 

“Having these things, it’s very freeing. But making such big changes in your life so quickly can overwhelm you. This vision of what an uplifted omnic should be can feel as limiting as the restraints of a life before knowing.” He reaches a hand out, “You don’t have to pick a name yet. You don’t have to immediately become the image of a model omnic with a soul. What matters is the Iris is with you. And it will stay with you while you navigate these changes.”

 

“You know, uh.“ Genji turns away, tugging at his ribbon, “I wandered around deserts while I was figuring myself.” Then he glances back, “And I’m still figuring myself out.”

 

“And you might not believe this, brother-” Zenyatta pats the other’s shoulder, “-but so am I”.

 

Zen then straightens his back, sits up and puts his palms together, “Things like names, you can experiment with before you can make them legally final. And it’s normal to worry about what others would think, and the way it sounds, you care a lot about children.”

 

“I do. I don’t want to scare them and, you know, it’s not every day they let an omnic teach children, I don’t want to, you know, make a bad rap out of us...”

 

Genji clears his throat, “I think they’d like you. They hired you for a good reason. You’ve got quite the personality, you’d probably work with them well. Just saying, uhm, as a human.”

 

The omnic’s lights up bright and he leans back. “Oh, wait, you’re a human?”

 

Genji freezes. “Yes?”

 

“Oh. Sorry, I assumed otherwise.” He bows in shame, “I even asked you about installations, that must be so rude-”

 

“It’s fine.” Genji leans forward. “I know some of these topics from the Shambali. And I believe in the Iris too. So even if I’m not an omnic… we’re still brothers, in a way.” He chuckles, and his own lights shine bright green.

 

There’s a pause, and Genji bites the inside of his cheek just _waiting_ for him to ask about his appearance, but it doesn’t come and the omnic simply relaxes.

 

“Well, if you think I’m alright, then maybe the children and the parents will.” He tilts his head, content. “I guess I’ll have to see for myself.”

 

After clutching at his knees for a while, the omnic figures he’s out of words, “Uh… Thank you, Brother Genji, Brother Zenyatta. Sorry for taking so much time.” He stands up, makes yet another bow at the pair of them, and Zenyatta nods in turn, palms together.

 

“Time together with others is a gift. May you have a good day and luck with your work, brother.”

“Take care.” Genji says, and they watch as the omnic leaves.

 

Once they’re alone together, there’s the quiet once more, no sound except that of Zenyatta’s orbs swirling and him re-centering himself. Genji sighs deeply, waits for the other to settle before speaking up again.

 

“Well, I think that went well.”

 

“You did a great job.” Zenyatta hums happily. “Maybe you should try being the teacher more often~”

 

“I don’t think I could. I don’t know much about the bureaucratic processes omnics go through.”

 

“Hmm. Fair point. So-” Zenyatta looks down the hall “-Are you ready for the next? I see they’re already here.”

 

Genji starts and turns to follow his gaze, and sees a pair of men peering from the doorway. Zen gestures for them to come in, and soon the couple is sat across from him and Genji.

 

“Teacher Zenyatta, I admit I got a little impatient at the end and moved ahead.” One of the men extends his hand to shake, “I’m Mr. Sarras, the one who’s been emailing you for _months_ about this visit here.”

 

Genji fixes his posture, at attention. Sarras is actually speaking in English, and over introductions he learns it’s for the benefit of his partner, who is new to the country. Zenyatta simply greets them and shakes their hands, and Genji follows.

 

Mr. Sarras is lively, a little manic, almost spitting out some of his words in excitement, and the green streaks in his hair remind Genji of himself when he was younger. “I’m so glad to finally get to get in touch with you, Teacher Zenyatta!”

 

He then looks to Genji, eyes wide, his hand practically vibrating on his partner’s shoulder. “I’m sorry I overheard, but… you’re a human? An… augmented one?”

 

“Uhhhhh.” Genji’s whole body tenses.

 

“Sorry, it’s just that, Leo...” Sarras gestures at his more quiet partner, and Leo in turn clears his throat and offers a smile.

 

“Yeah, I’m augmented too.”

 

Genji blinks over at the person sitting opposite him.

 

Squarish face, dark and thick curls, very plain clothes.

 

He looks completely normal.

 

Leo continues, “No, uh, seriously.” It’s only when he raises his hand that Genji sees the stiffness to his joints, the strange way skin moves and stretches. “All prosthetic. Uhm, a lot of me is mechanical at this point, even if I don’t look like it. I’m curious about yours, they’re so different from mine.”

 

Zenyatta looks over to Genji, cautiously quiet.

 

Genji gulps. “Y-yes. I have a lot of prosthetics and augments. They’re… more functional than err, aesthetic.”

 

Leo smiles, “I’ve always, uh, struggled with being augmented. I mean, I needed all these to be live somewhat independently.” He gestures at various parts all over his body, “It’s all mechanical. Just _inside_ , though a lot of my skin is fake and, err, my clothes hide most of the seams, at least. I’ve wanted to talk to Master Zenyatta for _months_ now, he’s pretty aware of the situation, and of course my boyfriend here kept badgering him to make sure we got to be here here.”

 

“Sorry, babe.” Sarras rolls his eyes.

 

“It’s nice to finally meet you two.” Zenyatta’s orbs swirl and glow bright, and he throws Genji another glance before continuing. “So, you two have wanted to talk to me about the relationship of augments and humanity-”

 

Before either of them could speak up, Genji’s already halting them with his hand reaching out, his body bent forward so his green eyepiece glares right at either of the couple. Then he twitches his head to the side, just enough to make it clear he’s looking at Leo.

 

“You’re human, dude. You _look_ like one, like a perfectly normal person. You worry like one, you pry into people’s business with body mods like one-” He catches Mr. Sarras at the corner of his eye, reeling back and offended, “-I worry too, all the time, but _listen_ . Other people don’t have to know. Everyone will think you’re one, and you _are_ . _Everyone’s_ getting augmented these days. Don’t worry. You’re human.”

 

Leo stares, frozen in place and looking fearful yet relieved yet confused, every single _human_ emotion, even as Genji huffs and slumps backwards, even as the he realizes his outburst and gets up.

 

“Genji-” Zenyatta reaches for him.

 

“I’m taking a break. Sorry, Master.” He waves his hand with his body turned away from the three, and heads out.

 

\- - - - - - - - - -

 

There’s a pang of guilt as he walks off from the venue and sees the lines still gathered, waiting,rocking with impatience. Along with the Shambali visit are programs and talks on omnic rights and whatnot, and large screens at the waiting area feature them and keep the people occupied. Though he knows that they’re _really_ here for Zenyatta.

 

All here for the somewhat rebel Shambali who’s carved a name for himself in the shadow of Mondatta.

 

He was so clueless, too, of how fast his master’s fame rose, clueless as he mostly battled with his own mind in the monastery, away from everyone else. And to think he probably left a bad impression of himself and of Zen, and not only that, for two people who spent so long waiting to meet him.

 

Even if it was kind of shit for them to pry into his augmentations.

 

Genji lingers outside, wondering for a while if he should head back in and help Zen manage the ones in line, but eventually a Shambali vehicle pulls in with some of the other monks. Backup.

 

Genji mentally shakes his head, and then walks off to find his way back to their hotel.

 

\- - - - - - - - - -

 

_(You just ruined someone’s day) You are human (You just made your friend look bad in front of people) You aren’t human (You lashed out, you got angry, you should have stopped and breathed and remembered his teachings) You are human. (You’ve spent so long away from the rest of humanity) No. No, you aren’t._

 

_(They were just excited, excited to see someone who knew what they were going through.)_

 

_But you don’t look human._

 

\- - - - - - - - - -

 

_(You are prone to recursive thoughts. Worrying about one thing, and then feeling bad that you’re still messed up over it years later, and then feeling bad for feeling bad for being a burden to others._

 

_Feeling bad for feeling bad for feeling bad for feeling bad.)_

 

The ‘hotel’ the Shambali are staying in is small, small enough that it’s just about full capacity with all of them, less than two dozen all in all. The monks and the acolytes mostly share rooms as they share personal space all the time in the monastery anyway, that and omnics don’t need as much amenities. Meanwhile, the human guests and the temporarily hired security and assistants fill most of the other rooms solo.

 

The windows are narrow to match the building. As Genji looks out, there is no dreamy nighttime view of the Parisian streets, but he supposes it’s enough since their stay was given to them free, and that he’s got a room of his own to mope around in.

 

It’s enough that they let him grab the free dinner early, because all of a sudden, seeing the Shambali’s human guests and guards made his circuits hot and his body more tense than it already was.

 

Seeing these regular people, free and shameless, talking about their family who miss them.

 

He wonders if their fingers ever go numb, if ever they desperately crinkle the paper wrappers of their food in order to chase after the sensation and sound of _being there_.

 

And Genji’s eyes dart forward, gazing out blankly to what little he could see of the city from his third-floor window.

 

_He could have asked. He could have talked to someone like him. Maybe they didn’t have blood on their hands, or a built-in shuriken storage, or vents and coolant and a completely manufactured jaw._

 

Maybe he didn’t look like a monster but he’d understand some part of him, nonetheless. Unlike most of the humans around him.

 

…Who was he to assume? What if the other humans with them were walking around with printed organs or metal for their bones? Of course, it was rude to ask.

 

But it’s enough to realize, enough for Genji to decide to apologize and head back to reception to wait for Zenyatta and the remaining Shambali.

 

\- - - - - - - - - -

 

When Zenyatta gets back, he sees Genji splayed out on the reception area’s sofa, asleep.

 

He just barely hovers over the floor, just so his metal doesn't click against the tiling. Then he perches on the edge of the sofa, his feet slowly lowering to the ground, him sinking into the cushions and feeling his lights brighten as it spares some energy from his levitation. Genji isn’t awakened by it, which brings Zen a little relief despite his thoughts.

 

_Omnic rights continue to advance. The Shambali are more famous. Yet everyone continues to have problems that run deeper and deeper into the self and society. The lines are getting longer._

 

Zenyatta watches a few more of his spiritual siblings head in through the door, the ones who came in to assist him for the night. Even with the line being cut off early, they could hardly accommodate everyone, and though he wishes he could have attended to each person to the best of his ability, he’s thankful that some didn’t mind having shorter talks, or one-on-ones with the other monks. There were many who were willing to extend the meetings so late into the night..

 

  

 

It’s left all of them mentally spent, however, and he watches quietly as Sachi arrives and all but sleep-hovers down the hall, nudged towards the right directions with help from the guards. He chuckles, at least until he hears the door open again.

 

He doesn’t watch at all when Mondatta arrives, Zen’s head turning to look over the his sleeping student instead.

 

He waits until his brother leaves before reaching forward and tapping a button on the coffee table before them, which brings up a holovid of the local late night news. He taps across channels and French websites, and _naturally_ they’re all talking about the Shambali… The Shambali, and omnic issues, and Mondatta.

 

He stares on for a while, watching subtitles flash by on the muted holovids. He watches excited interviewees, people who attended the speeches, and complete strangers talking about his brother in obsessive detail.

 

He thinks this: _It isn’t enough._

 

Zenyatta then hears groaning behind him, and looks to see Genji shifting on the couch.

 

“Master?”

 

“Genji.” Zenyatta folds his legs and fully turns him as he sits up.

 

Genji yawns, stretches his arms before settling them on his lap- “You took a while.”

 

“Sorry. There were so many people, we extended it to accommodate as much as we could.”

 

“No. _I’m_ sorry, uh…” Genji scratches at his ribbon. “I ran off. I should’ve helped you.”

 

“It’s not your fault. I _knew_ we were going to have that couple come in. Like they said, they’ve been contacting me for a while. I actually…” Zenyatta’s fingers curl tighter, “I thought that. I’d surprise you, I wanted to show you, through them, that-”

 

“That I’ve still got a human soul?”

 

“That you aren’t alone. That there are others like you, _ugh_ , something like that. _Something.”_ Zenyatta, for being tired enough that his orbs are falling out of position, gestures more widely than he usually does. “It’s why I dragged you along, _Genji_ , I’m sorry, I didn’t think about how you’d feel being put on the spot.” He bows his head, “Making you bare your past like that. It was insensitive of me, I-”

 

“Zenyatta.” Genji reaches to steady his shoulders. “I understand. I would have, hmm, appreciated a warning. It’s fine, it’s in the past.” He lets go and then gives a playful little punch to one shoulder. “Also, It’s hard for me to be angry after a good nap.”

 

Zenyatta’s orbs trill louder for a moment, and then seem to make a sound like a melodic exhale as Zen meets his gaze. “If it helps you to know… We all ended up having a good discussion, they were sympathetic and in the end they aren’t offended by what you did.”

 

Genji bows his head as he recalls the scene. “Good. Good. I was worried about making a bad example of you.”

 

“That doesn’t matter. I cannot control what others think of me. I just have to do my work to the best of my ability.” And Zenyatta reaches and taps Genji’s chin back upward.

 

“F-for now, that’s done. I’m going to reflect on this day, and if you want to meditate with me, my student-”

 

“Well, there’s no way I’ll be able to sleep now that I’ve had a long one.”

 

And when Genji laughs, Zenyatta thinks. He knows he could never understand Genji in his entirety, that after those nightmares of dragons his teaching can only go so far, and he knows he needs others, he needs actual _humans_ to help Genji alongside himself.

 

(And he worries, about having him stay in a monastery surrounded by _omnics_ , if ever Genji has realized that he talks so easily now with robots and yet stammers at anyone who wasn’t a Nepali local already used to them. And he worries at another thought that for now he wishes to banish and not linger on.)

 

He could never know what is is like to lose flesh and blood, only the small chips and scratches off his own faceplate.

 

But Genji laughs, and he doesn’t sound upset. And Zenyatta prays he hasn’t failed his student yet.

 

Despite the growing helplessness, walking ahead of the other Shambali, watching the crowds go by, having to rush one connection to the next... At least he still has this one wonderful soul.

 

They head towards Zen’s room. He hasn’t had a chance to even use it, so it’s pristine save for the old charging bay the Shambali assistants dragged in. Genji is content to sit across him.

 

Mondatta is a sore subject at the moment, but as Zenyatta sifts through his thoughts, he remembers how his brother said that Genji’s way of speaking- an echo of his rough past, wonderful, lively- has started to affect Zen’s own Japanese voicebanks, his own intonation. Zenyatta giggles at the memory.

 

“What is it, Zen?”

 

“Nothing. Just a nice thought.”

 

And he could memorize that voice, that laugh, so much that it’s been written into his own core code, something that could never be erased, and Zenyatta thinks this:

 

_This is more than enough._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can follow me at my [tumblr](http://7clubs.tumblr.com)! I am an artist first before a writer, so if I'm not updating MBS at least you can see me procrastinate and post that good Genyatta fanart over there.
> 
> I also have a [twitter](https://twitter.com/7GROVEYS) where I ramble and sometimes give updates on chapter progress.
> 
>  
> 
>  **Fanart**  
> [Chapter 2](https://gayintotheiris.tumblr.com/post/157990917065/i-found-this-part-in-this-fic-really-funny-poor) by gayintotheiris


	17. Omnic Truths

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Theories on omnic thought, and also, Zenyatta thinks about his truths.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 4.5k words. I feel sorry for all the late updates haha and I might be busy this week so. Early update :3c
> 
> This is the Zenyatta-centric chapter, and... it delves into some of my thoughts/headcanons on the development of omnic thought and omnic sensation. Also Marzi is in this a lot, because I love her.
> 
> I'm hoping ya'll can understand it, I'm proud of this chapter! And also, enjoy, and thanks again for any comments as they really motivate me!

Omnic memories are like this: Endless in detail and complexity, and in theory, one can never truly forget.

 

But to keep each moment, each split second in perfect clarity- always accessible- would be impossible. No matter how miniscule the chips are now that can hold all of history, no matter how efficient an omnic can be in charging and consuming energy, it would be impossible to have all of life available at a moment’s notice, to remember so easily.

 

And so each poster is folded up, small enough to keep in a box. Every insignificant moment is compressed down the moment it is passes, and in milliseconds it’s sorted away, data a mere fraction of the size it once was, in all likelihood never to be recalled and unfolded again.

 

When a memory  _ is _ needed, the functions in one’s system click into motion to retrieve it, but  _ even then _ they only sift for the most relevant pieces of data.  _ What happened on a certain time, _ usually, and then their minds save that one little thought as a separate piece somewhere where it’s more accessible, and lock the full terabytes of experience away once more.

 

In theory, omnic minds could never forget, never make a mistake. But actually, instead of extracting it all in perfect detail, they can efficiently reach for that  _ one little thought _ that summarizes it all. A _ truth summary _ , as those who study the omnic mind might call it.

 

One little thought, for what happened. Another thought, for how it came to be. Another, for the consequences, and another for how one felt as it occurred. And so these lines of code become their truth.

 

But memories and experience is one thing, and the truth of them is another.

 

\- - - - - - - - - -

 

Sometimes, when Zenyatta meditates, he chooses a memory. He tries to extract it, in full detail, in full feeling, and sees how- despite omnic memory being supposedly unmalleable, despite being  _ perfect _ and undoubtable- the  _ truth _ that comes out of it changes.

 

There’s a memory he chooses often. Over, and over.

 

_ Taking off his Nutcracker’s mask, bowing to the audience. Exciting the stage. _ He sees  _ them _ .

 

He floats in his hotel room, hooked up to the charging bay, his orbs circling around him in their usual rhythm and tone while he hears Genji’s breathing so close by. The instantaneous packets of experience that are being made in the present are put on low priority, though, because instead he feels his footsteps across the floor from years ago as if they were happening to him this very moment.

 

He hears muffled crowds exiting the auditorium. He hears excited children- the ballet students- squealing after a successful performance. There’s the laughter of their loved ones, and he relives that same joy.

 

One of the first truths he ever pulled from the memory is this:  _ The Iris called out to you. _

 

To this day, he cannot describe or comprehend the more subtle tugs of the Iris, the pull of its strings towards peace and enlightenment, the realization of his soul. And so when he relives this moment, he doesn’t know how he can sense it. He doesn’t know why he continues to feel that same tug in other memories, only that it’s there and distinctly _ the Iris _ .

 

So then. He sees  _ them _ .

 

His fellow lead for the Nutcracker is a young but professional ballerina, the teacher of the class. His temperature sensors register a very cold auditorium and backstage.

 

And she’s there, still in her costume, but with a thick coat draped over it, and she’s giggling as her partner- boyfriend then, probably husband now- tries to give her more flowers than she can carry. She’s got a few stems already tucked under her arm, and ballet shoes in one hand, and she’s bent over slightly as her other hand squeezes and soothes her tired legs and feet.

 

_ “Wait a minute, love, let me rest a little while.” _

 

It’s not as if he’s a stranger to receiving human intimacy, no, nor kisses like the one he witnesses between the two lovers, but for Zenyatta it had mostly been in the context of greeting one another, or acting it out in a play.

 

So then. In French, there is the term  _ “ _ _ L'appel du vide,” the call of the void, _ but while the void urges self-destruction, the call of the Iris is different. And after Zenyatta sees the vibrant lives that humans lived, the call becomes this:  _ I could be doing so much more with my life. _

 

An omnic who spends all his time reading scripts, an omnic whose job is to be told exactly what to say, an omnic whose only worth is performing mere stories... there is no programming within him, nothing that will be able to make him able to parse the truth of what living truly is.

 

But there are fatal errors and contradictions, and those are things that omnics  _ do _ notice, that shake them to their very core.

 

_ For once upon a time _ , all Zenyatta did were mindless roles and background characters, and he was content. But then the characters he played grew in complexity. They struggled, they  _ grieved  _ and  _ celebrated _ and  _ feared _ and  _ raged _ . They  _ pined  _ and  _ loved _ , and he realized, he couldn’t understand at all.

 

And at first, he figured that was alright, that it was inevitable that there are some things beyond his range of experience.

 

_ But then, the children spoke to him with such wonder, and even those scared of omnics found it in their hearts to grace him with joy. So endless in imagination and potential, and just so, so passionate about what they adored, and he’d talk to them, for hours and hours, in the gentlest tone he could muster, and he realized he was ashamed of being a mere robot, for not being able to pull the faces and gestures these children could, but when he was with them, that shame disappeared in part, and there was only life. _

 

_ But then, there were two lovers, and the boyfriend doesn’t stop trying to sneak in kisses because he is so proud of her performance, even if it’s just a children’s production in a smaller stage, and she laughs and lightly whaps him with her shoes because she’s too occupied to kiss him back just yet, and she might topple over if he keeps being so unable to contain himself, and finally she does kiss him, and then she gives him a bit of a jabbing elbow and a smirk and teases him for being so impatient when it comes to giving affection. _

 

_ And then she sighs happily, and pulls on his coat so it hugs around her body tighter, and then she leans against him and they trail off into whispers. _

 

And Zenyatta doesn’t understand.

 

But in that moment, he realizes that he  _ could  _ if he wanted to _. _

 

\- - - - - - - - - -

 

There’s another thing he’s realized, about pain and pleasure. Pain is easy to discover. It’s something an omnic learned early on, for mistakes were inevitable when one was new to existence, and many humans still lashed at omnics or were simply so, so careless.

 

So they accidentally damage ports, they threaten to snap an important wire. The omnics work long hours end, unable to recharge, and their body starts to struggle relegating resources, and the little interruption in electricity becomes all so familiar, a pattern of unpleasant emotions. The fear of breaking, the fear of running out, and that becomes pain, and it becomes physical.

 

But then Genji comes along, and he takes Zenyatta’s hand, and he sends little zaps flying between fingertips, and Zenyatta gives them in return, and through spring and summer and autumn their hands keep finding each other to give that spark.

 

He’s only designed to be able to sense pressure. He doesn’t know temperature, only stabilizes it within his body, only knows the unphysical warmth of the Iris within his soul. He’s learned pain, for survival.

 

But Genji comes along, and he sits with him by the stream, and he meditates with him, and his neon green fixtures light up and he  _ laughs _ and  _ smiles _ and when pure metal and withered nerves meet and that spark jumps, Zenyatta feels  _ pleasure _ . These patterns of electricity, subtle jolts, Genji gives them over and over until it becomes as much a truth as anything else.

 

It’s truths like these that make him able parse complex sensations in those old memories, and overwrite those little tidbits of data, or add to them more and more depth.

 

Zenyatta is no stranger to a little affection with other omnics, either, it’s not the first time he’s shared sparks, but like with humans it’s always been limited to greetings, or small silly things between friends and spiritual siblings, or simply excess static that discharges when they’re in close proximity. And it’s always registered as this in the past: an increased input in electricity. And then the slightly detached, spiritual warmth and joy.

 

With Genji, it’s all at once. There’s something about him that gives Zenyatta the rush. And he learns those patterns over and over that make his circuits tickle, and  _ now _ when he relives past sensations, even if it isn’t with Genji, it’s simply  _ there _ now. _ Physical _ pleasure, now that he’s learned it.

 

Now, perhaps he can understand.

 

\- - - - - - - - - -

 

Here are some more truths and thoughts that Zenyatta comes across, reliving the memory backstage:

 

(I still don’t know if ever I’d  _ feel _ a kiss.)

 

(Maybe, _ maybe _ I could have experimented more if I’d been on my own before joining the Shambali, but I don’t regret coming to them. It’s just that, _ frankly, _ back then we could hardly comprehend ourselves as souls, much less two distinct souls together as one. And by the time we figured ourselves out, we thought of each other more as siblings and family than anything else.)

 

(That man was handsome. But Genji, well....)

 

(He’s right there. I could reach out and hold his hand right now. Though... I’m meditating, he looks deep in thought. It would probably startle him. Perhaps not.)

 

(Whose idea was it to make me take on so many romantic roles? Ahhh, now I might have unrealistic expectations…)

 

\- - - - - - - - - -

 

There are truths that the memory affirms.

 

_ I want this. Oh, Iris, I want this. _

 

(I don’t want to be alone.)

 

_ I don’t want to be a face on a billboard. I’ve already folded up enough posters of myself. Before this, before I knew the Iris. _

 

(I don’t want to be alone.)

 

_ I just want to talk with them. I want to know the depths of human experience. I want to see the Iris within others. _

 

(I don’t want to be alone.)

 

_ I’m tired. I’m tired of being seen as above them. I want to be a teacher but... I want to be seen as their equal. This is the only way, this is my only peace. _

 

_ I’m tired of not being seen for me. _

 

(Please. I don’t want to be alone again.)

 

\- - - - - - - - - -

 

_ But he can’t be with me forever. _

 

(Can he?)

 

_ Don’t be selfish. Don’t expect him to give you everything you’ve wanted. _

 

 

 

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

 

_ But we can’t always agree, brother, and it only will get worse. _

 

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

  
  
  
  


 

 

 

 

“Zenyatta.” Genji’s voice finally pierces the relative silence, with Zen’s orbs starting to slow down in their orbit and their trilling sounds winding down.

 

Zen takes a moment to relegate his attention back to the present, his lights blinking in and out and finally, shining bright. “I’m here, Genji. How have you been there?”

 

“You know, I’ve just been sitting with you, hah…” Genji chuckles awkwardly. “I’ve been trying to figure out, just, today. A-and why I got so upset. Ugh.”

 

Zenyatta tilts his head, tries to peer past the solid neon of his eyepiece, but alas he can’t. “Are you alright?”

 

“Yeah, well,” Genji makes a loud sigh, “Actually, I’m crying a little. It’s nothing.”

 

“Genji.” he reaches forward, “What’s the matter? You know, I’m here-”

 

“I’m just overthinking. And you seemed to be, err, meditating very intensely. Is that even possible? Anyway.” he waves off Zen’s arm and continues, “I think I’ve… pieced together my thoughts, in a way that isn’t going to like, make no sense.”

 

“Well, you can tell me.” Zen brings his hands back over his lap. “And we can talk as long as you like.”

 

Genji nods and sighs. “It’s been  _ months _ now. You know, I’ve actually started to feel like… Like I’ve improved a lot. Like I didn’t feel insecure about myself anymore. I thought I was actually getting better, and…” he shakes his head. “And then this happens, and I see other  _ ordinary _ people. Maybe it’s just because the locals back at home were so casual about it, they didn’t really bring it up.”

 

“I was starting to think, hey,  _ I’m cool now _ , I’m healing. Then this hits me in the head.” He thumps his fist against his lap, his eyes to the floor. “Surrounded by all these  _ people _ … I wanted to either run away from them, because I felt like I  _ didn’t belong _ ,  _ it was wrong for me to be there _ ,  _ I wasn’t human enough _ , or punch them in the face for having it so damn easy,”

 

“This guy walks in and he doesn’t look like some  _ monster _ and he tells me he’s struggling to come to terms with himself and for a moment I felt it.” Genji huffs, and then he reaches up to pick at his visor. He takes it off, and sweeps his fingers across wet eyelids.

 

Zenyatta hovers closer, and brings the orbs around Genji as well.

 

“I felt like I wanted to rip into him and find those wires and pull them out and prove he was  _ really  _ just like me… I was angry. I don’t want to feel like that ever again.” And Genji’s shoulders droop.

 

“I had such  _ toxic _ ideas that I didn’t even know were there, like, the shit I would have been thinking about back when I was still in Blackwatch, and... I still have such a long way to go. It felt like all this has been nothing.”

 

“You know that isn’t true, my student.” His orbs hover inward and then back out, like a breath. Zenyatta then leans his head forward, till it clicks against Genji’s helmet.

 

And they stay still for a while, letting the orbs around them soothe. The metal slides against each other’s heads, scratches slightly as Genji nods. “I know. I  _ know _ that I’m a much better person from when I started, but…”

 

“ _ You are. _ You are a better person now.” And Zenyatta’s voice is so close, and Genji can feel it reverberate against his own forehead. “Sometimes, we come to a point where we realize things about ourselves that challenge us for the future. And I’m---  _ we’re _ not prepared. We can never be prepared for things like these. And you’ll feel weaker than you ever have before, but that doesn’t mean you haven’t grown. It simply means you become all too aware of the path ahead. And the growing you have left to do.”

 

And Genji’s eyes are so close, and Zenyatta tries to look for meaning in the depths of those irises. He’s still looking down at the floor, blinking hard so as not to let the tears well up.

 

“Zenyatta?”

 

“Yes?”

 

“You’ve felt this before.”

 

“Of course.” Zenyatta moves his head back slightly. “What do you think did I feel back when I realized I wanted to escape my old life, when I threw away everything that I knew to go with the Shambali?”

 

_ (What do you think I feel right now?) _

 

Genji’s eyes flick up at Zen’s. “Lost, probably.”

 

“I was. I was so lost.”

 

_ (I am so lost, even now-) _

 

Genji knits his brow, looks back downward. “Are you alright?”

 

“It’s in the past. I’ve grown-”

 

“-No. Are you alright, like. Right now.”

 

Zenyatta feels his circuits skip a spark. And he realizes he can’t keep his processes in order. And he realizes his body has been whirring louder and louder, and his hands are shivering.

 

Genji’s hands find Zen’s, however, and he cups them between his own.

 

“...I-I’m not.” Zenyatta admits, sounding vaguely shocked at his words, his own body.

 

“What’s wrong? Zeny, what happened at the talks? I  _ knew  _ I should have stayed longer-”

 

“No, no. It’s not your fault, Genji, it’s…” Zenyatta’s fingers curl tighter. “It’s Mondatta.”

 

“Oh.” Genji’s eyes flick back up to meet his. Zen swears he looks almost a little relieved.

 

“So did something-”

 

“You know how I disagree with him with how we run these things. Y-you know how we went severely off schedule, and how I got the others to help me run this. All without permission. Mondatta and I ran into each other quite late in the day, before I headed back here.”

 

“And he was angry?”

 

“A little… no, very. He tries to be calm about it, but I could tell.” Zenyatta’s head droops down, stares off at Genji’s hands around his. “It wasn’t as if we fought, this will pass.”

 

As if on cue, he feels the other bathe them with sparks of tickling warmth, and Zenyatta’s fans and sprockets calm down. Genji smiles.

 

“Is that all, Zen?”

 

He lies. “Yes. That’s all.”

  
  


\- - - - - - - - - - 

 

It’s hard for Genji to  _ want _ to sleep when the early hours of morning and the quiet hotel room gave them so much time to simply have each other.

 

And he was concerned. For though he wanted to pry, for though he felt like there was more, for though he  _ needed _ to know, Zenyatta kept his replies short. But Genji doesn’t push further, doesn’t want to force him to somehow know how to answer the hundreds of questions forming in his mind.

 

It seemed like Zen was more concerned for him, anywho. So, if he just focused on himself....

 

“You know how I kept telling, uh, yelling at Leo about how he was still human? I had an idea about it.”

 

“Hmm? What about it?”

 

“I should yell that at myself. Say it in my head.” Genji smirks. “Just… less angrily.  _ I’m human, I’m human, I’m human _ , whenever I feel like I doubt myself or my soul. If these other augmented folks are just like me, then…” He sighs sadly, “I should listen to logic and tell myself. I’m still me.”

 

“Yes.” And Zenyatta seems to look at him, alert, but his voice is far off. “Like I said. You’re a wonderful soul.”

 

Genji feels the heat prickle at his cheeks as he smiles.

 

In time, though, he puts his visor back on, suddenly tired. The words are sweet, but he wonders if they’re there to mask… a disinterest?

 

No, no.  _ This isn’t about you _ . He’s still got his own thoughts to worry about. About Brother Mondatta, whatever happened. Genji feels like he doesn’t want to make Zenyatta feel any more stressed.

 

And so, he doesn’t tell.

 

When Genji leaves the room, he doesn’t tell Zenyatta.

 

How, deep in meditation earlier, while his processes sent him to a memory in the far past, while his processes couldn’t find the time to pay close attention to the present... The gold vanished.

 

_ A ring of orbs, swirling around his floating body. Dark like the void and radiating discord. _

 

Sapping the warmth from the world around him.

 

And Zenyatta never noticed.

 

And Genji wants to ask what thought could shake him to the very core, what thought he can’t get rid of even as he’s deeply in connection with the Iris. But he can’t bear to trouble his teacher any longer.

 

_ What were you thinking about, Zenyatta?  _ Genji wants to ask, but it has been a long day and he goes back to his room.

 

And as the Zenyatta watches Genji leave, perhaps this thought does come back to haunt him.

 

_ I don’t want to be alone. _

 

\- - - - - - - - - - 

 

_ Omnic memories are like this. We can, in theory, record everything at once, and process what we sense into a truth summary. These truth summaries become easily accessible in memory while the detailed record of the event is hypercompressed and sorted away. _

 

_ However doing so for  _ absolutely everything _ happening to us would cause us omnics to be disorganized, overwhelmed, and focus on irrelevant thoughts. Instead like humans, we usually can only focus on one most relevant thing to run through our truth processes, and the rest can fall to the background. _

 

_ Anyway, these background details can still be unpacked from hypercompressed event storage at a later time. We can refocus ourselves so we can relive these formerly background events in more detail, and from there, create more truth summaries for easy access, before storing the memory again. _

 

_ The problem is, however, because we don’t process ‘background’ events into logical thoughts and ideas as they happen, we might not even know they were there to begin with. And for many of us, we just rely on truth summaries instead of fetching the entirely of the experience, over, and over again. _

 

Zenyatta lingers outside Genji’s room in the morning, and senses him still sleeping when the time for the Shambali morning meditation rolls along.

 

He doesn’t attend it, and simply returns to his room. He doesn’t come back out until it seems like a reasonable time for his friend to wake, counting the hours since Genji headed back in the early morning.

 

Even then, Genji doesn’t come, and so Zenyatta decides to go downstairs anyway.

 

In the tiny hotel lobby he sees some of the other monks on the couch, looking at holovids… Though Sister Marzi’s the only one  _ actually _ sat on the couch. Brother Topaz sitting more on the arm rest rather than the couch. Sachi’s actually just floating a few inches over the cushioning, despite posing as if she’s sitting.

 

He finds the arrangement quite silly, and feels himself bubble up with warmth for his siblings. Before he can even approach, Marzi’s eyes flicker to him and a smile pops on her screen. She gestures for him to come closer, and with a laugh, Zenyatta does just that.

 

“Brother Zen!” Just as quickly as she “ **:D** ”s, her screen flashes with a  **:/** . “I didn’t see you at the meditation.”

 

Zenyatta handwaves it, and he sees Sachi and Marzi exchange glances.

 

No doubt Sachi, who helped him handle the crowd last night, also ran into Mondatta. No doubt that Gossip Master Marzi somehow got that story out of them. Brother Topaz simply looks on with some confusion but never gets an answer.

 

Zenyatta coughs. “Good morning. I decided to meditate on my own. What are you watching?”

 

“It’s me.” Marzi points at the holovid, and in an instant, a tiny pixelated version of herself also shows up on her face-screen. “I handled a portion of the omnic history talks.”

 

Zenyatta nods and watches the Marzi on the holovid, speaking with a calm eloquence that contrasts her usual excited tone.

 

_ “Many people assume that omnics cannot lie or misremember, however, they can miss background events just like humans can. Our sense of the truth varies depending on our past experiences, so we can actually misinterpret what happened to us and create and draw from flawed truth summaries.”  _ Marzi’s face turns into an arrow, pointing at a presentation screen with some diagram trying to explain the omnic thought creation process.  _ “This is less of a problem when you can recover the full memory to refine the truth summary, but when it’s a traumatic memory that you  _ don’t _ want to relive…” _

 

Marzi looks at herself in the holovid, and her screen blinks back into a  **:)** . “The topic was the history and inclusion of omnics in the judiciary process, investigations… you know. Law stuff.”

 

Zenyatta nods, “Ah, you manage to make it sound so interesting. I think should watch this in full later, Sister.”

 

“Awww, Brother Zen.” She switches to a  **:D** . The other two monks keep their focus on the holovid stream.

 

_ “Additionally, when omnics want to believe a different truth hard enough, it can overwrite their truth summary with a lie. And so, this posed problems when omnics were to testify in court…” _

 

Zenyatta absently nods, and then his eyes scan down the holovid to see the heads of some of Marzi’s front row audience. “How was the crowd?”

 

“Pretty big, we filled most of the venue, but…” Marzi switches to a  **: /** once more. “Most were omnics, which is great, they’re learning our history. But I really wanted  _ humans _ to listen too. I wanted make it accessible to them, we tried to advertise… but they’re just not interested in omnic history.”

 

Zenyatta sighs.”I suppose actually learning new things about omnics and our history is less attractive to humans than listening to Brother Mondatta reaffirm things they already know.”

 

Marzi’s face-screen suddenly inverts colors and fills up with a huge  **O_O!** , with Sachi jolting in her seat and Brother Topaz almost falling off the armrest. Zenyatta jerks to look around the reception, and he sees no one else around.

 

But when he extracts it all from his hypercompressed storage, later on, his new truth summaries will reveal the details he overlooked: That Mondatta had been watching them from afar, all along, and that he left the moment Zenyatta said his name.

 

\- - - - - - - - - - 

 

There are truths that can be so warped by discord that they cast a cloud over other truths.

 

This is how omnics forget.

 

This is how Zenyatta sometimes forgets the years his brother spent helping him find peace, helping him find the Iris. This is how Zenyatta forgets he wasn’t as lost as he could have been, all those years ago, thanks to him and the other monks.

 

And Zenyatta wants to cast one truth aside, but it is powerful, and it is this:

 

_ I don’t want to be alone. _

 

And when he’s on his own in his room, when there’s no one to talk to, he tries, he tries to think of Genji’s hands, of the fire in his eyes and in the sparks they share.

 

He thinks of their quiet days by the river, he thinks of Genji’s shoulder blades pressed to his, he clings, desperately, to him,  _ his Iris, his Genji. _

 

He thinks of Genji, staring out the train window, with all the beautiful colors of autumn sweeping across his faceplate. Because lies are born of discord and he has to be strong. He cannot ever let discord overwrite the core code, the core truths he holds most dear to him.

 

_ Genji treasures me as a friend, as company, and we mutually inspire and strengthen each other.  _

 

_ Mondatta saved me, guided me, helped me see the Iris, and he is my dear brother just like I am his, and we will always be brothers in spirit. _

 

And Zenyatta wants to cast one lie aside, but it is powerful, and it is this:

  
_ One day, both of them will leave me. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...I promise the next chapter will be sweeter, if only because it's almost time for me to plunge ya'll into hell.
> 
>  
> 
> You can follow me at my [tumblr](http://7clubs.tumblr.com)! I am an artist first before a writer, so if I'm not updating MBS at least you can see me procrastinate and post that good Genyatta fanart over there.
> 
> I also have a [twitter](https://twitter.com/7GROVEYS) where I ramble and sometimes give updates on chapter progress.
> 
>  
> 
>  **Fanart**  
> [Chapter 2](https://gayintotheiris.tumblr.com/post/157990917065/i-found-this-part-in-this-fic-really-funny-poor) by gayintotheiris


	18. Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A few months after France in autumn, and right after the Shambali get back from a peace mission in Manila.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **> :3c**

 

 

Genji knew they’d both leave him some day, it just happened sooner than he expected.

 

 

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

 

 

 

And so he drifts, from vision to vision.

 

He sees  _ his _ figure, quietly sat down, and streaks of black and deep indigo swirling around him.

 

Genji’s floating. He drifts closer, and for some reason, his back stings like hell.

 

He’s groggy. He’s slept too much. He rubs his eyes. The figure turns and seems to notice him.

 

“Genji?”

 

“Mmmh.” Genji peeks one eye open at him.

 

Sojiro Shimada blinks at him, perplexed. “Where are your shoes?”

 

“Ah.” Genji looks down, realizing he’s barefoot on the grass, completely ignoring the stone path of the garden as well.  _ “Shit,” _ he says, too quiet for his father to hear. Whether he does hear or not, Sojiro chuckles, and seems to gesture at the pair of slippers available by the garden entryway. Then he pats the empty spot of the bench he’s sitting on.

 

Genji’s threading towards the bench before he even knows it. And then he sits next to his father. And then he’s staring at the koi pond right in front of him.  _ Didn’t they seal this up after someone was drowned in it and we never found out who did it and why? _

 

The streaks are dancing over the sunlit surface of the water, and when Genji looks up, he sees the two dragons. Dark indigo, practically black, but their eyes are  _ gold _ , and in the light like this their great scales have an almost iridescent sheen.

 

Genji shifts his seating on the stone bench, and that sends a crack of pain up his back again. He grimaces, and Sojiro raises a brow at him before looking back to the pond and tossing some pellet food in for the fish.

 

“You know, son, I know I told you to rest as much as you could after sessions, but you shouldn’t sleep in  _ this _ much.”

 

“It wasn’t  _ that _ much. I got a solid, uh, seven-and-a-half hours.” Genji watches as the koi all start to gather close to them, gobbling up the pellets.

 

“Then you should stop sleeping so late.” Sojiro smirks, “Even if you get enough sleep, staying up is not good for you, it throws your body clock off balance. Puts a stress on your immune system. Last thing we want is your tattoo not healing properly. You  _ know _ it’s not just some ordinary ink.”

 

Genji nods, and his eyes watch the twin dragons once more. His tattoo was barely halfway done, though already he knew that on his back was the intricate profile of a dragon amongst swirls of storms and electricity. Now  _ if only he could actually see them without a mirror. Or using his phone camera to snap a photo of it. _

 

“So I’ll be able to summon them  _ only _ once it’s done? How does that even work? Is it really going to be  _ green _ ?”

 

_ It’s gotta match his look. What color was his hair again? Red? Purple? He remembered it being an ass to bleach back into something he could turn green later. _

 

“The techniques behind our tattoos are a secret. Only the head of the clan- me- and the artists may know about them, and even I don’t know every detail. We leave the designs up to them. We trust them, they have served our clan for a long time.” And Sojiro reaches out, with arms patterned in scales black and purple and gold, and with sweeping gestures, the twin dragons dance to follow his rhythm. “They never get them wrong.”

 

“And you won’t be able to summon dragons immediately. You need a strong soul, a lot of willpower. Though…” his hands lower, and he looks back at Genji. “Your mother and Hanzo summoned theirs  _ very soon _ after their tattoos were completed.” He tilts his head and grins, “Not that I mean to pressure you, son.”

 

“Right.” Genji smirks.  _ Just watch me summon it the day I get it finished. _

 

Suddenly, his father jolts. “Oh-” Sojiro’s eyes widen as a big, fat golden koi rises and starts mouthing the surface for food. She’s easily the largest fish in the pond, and Genji knew she’s even older than himself.

 

Sojiro smiles, and scatters more pellets into the pond. “Ah, look, it’s Hiyoko.”

 

Genji gasps, “Her name’s Rikimaru!”

 

Then he remembers a voice, stern and feminine. “No. It’s Mochizuki.” 

 

As if a ghost, he feels a hand barely grasp his shoulder, and when Genji shifts his focus from the koi to their own reflections, he sees himself between his parents. Another dragon, red and flowing like water, dances together with the twins as if it had been there from the beginning.

 

And Sojiro breaks into a chuckle, “You already indulged your love of history with our sons, my dear. Let us name the fish.”

 

Momoka seems to look around and debate it for a moment. “Very well then. But pick better ones for the old lady.”

 

“Rikimaru.” Genji asserts.

 

“This fish survived the omnic crisis!” She gestures at it, “You are not naming her after a ramen shop.”

Genji scrunches up his face, and then looks back at the pond. “Why doesn’t she already have a name? If she’s really that old...”

 

“Because me and my brothers could never decide on one.” Sojiro says. “And she never got an official one… though hmm. Well...”

 

“What is it?” Momoka leans closer. Sojiro’s eyes seem to glaze over with realization.

 

“Oh. No, she does have a name. My cousin had to take her to the vet, and she had to put down a name for the records.”

 

_ “What is it.” _ Genji grins as he also butts his head in closer.

 

Sojiro stops for a while as mother and son eagerly await the answer, and then he cups over his mouth, and then he breaks into deep laughter- “It’s  _ Sushi! _ ”

 

_ “No. _ ” Momoka looks devastated.

 

“That’s amazing.” And Genji only has sheer delight.

 

Father only starts laughing louder at their responses, and his booming voice is stronger than anything else, than the water, than the strong winds, than the bells quietly chiming outside Genji’s room, and Genji eventually closes his eyes and joins him, and even Mother drops the serious act and betrays her amusement, chuckling much more quietly, sometimes muttering, “ _ I can’t believe this,” “You have no right to criticize my naming choices anymore.” _

 

When Genji opens his eyes, though, and his laughter fades, the pond is gone.

 

And so is the brilliant golden koi, and so are the reflections of the dragons in the water. The dragons themselves are no longer there, even in the corners of his vision.

 

And he frowns. “What ever happened to her?”

 

Sojiro could only shrug, “You know, after the incident…”

 

“We had the pond sealed up” Momoka could only sigh. “And since we had our focus elsewhere, we didn’t really keep track of how they dealt with the fish. Even such a grand one like Lady Mochizuki.”

 

“Rikimaru.”

 

“Hiyoko-”

 

“-Anyway.” She rolls her eyes. “Ahh. It’s a shame. We didn’t realize until a while after she was gone.”

 

“I guess we’ll never know.” Genji droops forward, elbows on his knees. “But who knows. Maybe she’s still in some other pond, somewhere.”

 

He forces a smile. “Maybe I’ll even pass by her and not realize it. Maybe… she’s still alive.”

 

The vents on his shoulders pop up and give off steam. Thick wisps as warm air meets the winter cold.

 

And he remembers holding their hands, cold, cold hands, on a white bed, and he remembers the smell of incense ghosting, too real even if it wasn’t there.

 

Sojiro looks sadly out, to the sakura he so loved- stark white snow on dark wood- and to the misty blur of the Shimada Castle.

 

And Genji hears bells, louder and louder.

 

“Sparrow.” Sojiro says.

 

“I know.” Genji sniffles. “I know.”

 

And Mother’s grasp on his shoulder tightens for a moment, and then it simply fades. And Father’s hand is cold, still so cold, until there’s nothing at all, nothing except their voices.

 

“Mother-” Genji grapples in the dark, “F-father-” And he reaches for mere air, and his mouth opens and he has a million questions for them,  _ Did I do the right thing, Was I a good son, Are you proud of me, Am I doing better now, Are you in peace- _

 

And perhaps they have a million answers, but Genji cannot decipher them, and they muddle together and he cannot tell at all.

 

But then. There are memories.

 

Memories he cannot afford to doubt.

 

Memories, even the smallest things, in perfect detail.

 

And Genji’s looking out a window that oversees the courtyard, and Father walks through the grounds after a successful deal, and he stops to sit on the bench and give the old lady koi a treat.

 

And Mother teaches him, in all her grace, how to draw a blade. Over and over, she gets him to refine even _ that _ in technique, until one day Genji does so  _ perfectly _ , and at the same time he finally summons his dragon together with it as well. 

 

And he’s never seen her so excited, and it takes a few moments for her to stop giggling and jumping and to compose herself. And then, she turns to her son, and she holds him by the shoulders, and the look in her eyes is fond and soft.

 

And the next thing, Genji knows, is not a real memory, but it  _ is _ the one thing he remembers perfectly as he wakes from his dream.

 

_ “See you soon,” _ she says.

 

 

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

 

And then, he’s home.

 

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

 

 

 

 

  
  
  


The cold winter air blasts Genji in the face as he opens the curtains of his room. His teeth rattle at first, but it doesn’t take long for his body to regulate it, his core temperature surging and spreading throughout evenly. Though the chill still stings against bare skin.

 

The bells hanging by the entryway ring loudly in his ears.

 

After coming back from a peace mission somewhere tropical like Manila, being back on a frigid mountain was a jarring contrast. That, and his new room was more open to the cold air than his old one back in the monastery proper.

 

He still had a spot there- that room he blew a few holes in, now fixed up- for when he stayed too late in the night with the Shambali. But in between the last two peace missions, he and Zenyatta agreed that it was best for him to live in the village.

 

Humans rarely made pilgrimages to the monastery during the wintertime, and so the monks rarely stocked food, especially not in the wide variety that Genji would crave, would  _ need _ so that the same meals over and over wouldn’t start to wear on his palate..

 

And once the snow was heavier, Genji knew it’d be difficult for him or some of the monks to make the trek to and from the mountain top. It was different from when he first arrived, as he now had a tighter schedule and a more active role helping the Shambali. At least like this, he could get his breakfast immediately, and only then make the trip to join the others.

 

And so he looks out to the village, debating on what to eat for the day, mentally computing how much time he needs to grab it all and then get up the mountain. Hopefully he’ll catch Zenyatta just after the group meditation finishes. 

 

And he remembers Zenyatta’s sad voice as they came to this decision, almost a plea: “ _ Genji, you need to be together with other humans.” _

 

And Zenyatta was right, though Genji misses waking up to him at the door almost every other day. He breathes in hard, tries to will himself to more positive thoughts, because the fact was that Zenyatta sometimes found the time to go down the mountain and greet him in the mornings anyway.

 

The balcony outside Genji’s room, as it turned out, was an excellent place to meditate. Though for now, this wasn’t where he was going to do it.

 

Genji slides on his visor and starts to hop his way towards his breakfast place of choice.  _ Take-out from Mr. Joshi’s shop again. He said he had new seasonal stuff _ . He had become such a regular that Mr. Joshi no longer minded lending him tons of bowls at any given time.

 

Snow isn’t too thick just yet, so it’ll be a fun morning hike up the slope, and then he could sit down and eat with Zenyatta as he so often does. 

 

Once he’s at the base of the mountain with his food, though, he stops. He looks at the snowcapped buildings up ahead, and he remembers Hanamura, his strange dream, he remembers Mother’s face again.

 

_ “See you soon.” _ he thinks, and then he starts to head up.

 

\- - - - - - - - - -

 

Genji finds Zenyatta with a little help from the other monks, and his breath hitches as he sees the omnic’s finely built back- and beyond him- the endless landscape of the Himalayas, stark white snow in the morning light and casting a glow around the omnic. As if his orbs weren’t already doing plenty of that and highlighting his form so wonderfully.

 

Zen’s head turns slightly as he hears Genji, and he floats closer to the ground as Genji then sits down next to him and uncovers his breakfast bowl.

 

“Good morning, my student.”

 

“Good morning, Master.” He sort of nods, takes off his visor, and then raises his bowl to eat small bites between speaking. “What are you doing back here?”

 

“Well, we just got back, after all. I thought I’d just…” Zenyatta sighs, “Admire the view.”

 

Genji looks back to the mountains. “Yeah. It’s beautiful. I never really noticed it when I first got here.” He takes a moment to have another mouthful, and then smirks. “I can’t believe it.”

 

“Hmm?” Zenyatta floats closer. “Believe what?”

 

“It’s been almost a year since I got here. Remember, it was winter when I arrived, too.”

 

“Oh! You’re right. It… doesn’t even feel like that long.”

 

“Or like it’s been longer. I feel like things have changed so much. Compared to the time I just… wandered around the world.”

 

Zen nods. “You’ve grown a lot, Genji. I’m proud.”

 

“Mhmm. Thank you, Zen.” And Genji focuses on his food for a while, letting the sounds of their bodies fill the silence.

 

Zenyatta’s fans are quiet, as one can expect when keeping cold isn’t a problem at all. The whirr of his solar converters are prominent, and the faintest trill his orbs tend to give off when idle isn’t there at all, at least from what Genji can tell.

 

The rhythm of his system is… different, overall, generally the  _ music _ of his body is made up of sounds in the same tempo, but this time some things are way too fast, too high pitched, and the rest are more sluggish than they usually are. 

 

After a while Genji looks at him with concern. “Are you alright, Zenyatta?”

 

“Hmmm?”

 

And Genji realizes his voice has a bit more echo. And that his replies are shorter. “You sound tired.”

 

“Ah.” Zenyatta looks down and clasps his hands together. “I suppose the trip home did a number on me. It also takes me a lot of energy to keep my body at optimum temperature in the cold. And, err-” He looks back out to the view “-we made the trip back here at night. Not exactly good for getting solar.”

 

“Alright…” Genji pauses to take another spoonful, and scrutinizes Zenyatta some more while his cheeks are puffed. True, he could be low in energy… But he knew Zenyatta didn’t need to compensate heat for his extremities and feet in the snow when he could just float off the ground, and his core body temperature tended to stay at optimum. He had the entire night to get a charging bay.

 

If he was merely tired, his whole system’s tempo would be slow, but no, things were out of sync.

 

Also, if he struggled with heating his body, then he wouldn’t be sitting there with only pants on.

 

Zenyatta seems to sense his suspicion, tilting his head. “Is something wrong, Genji?”

 

“You know you can tell me the truth. Is this about the Manila trip?”

 

Zenyatta droops, caught. He lowers himself to sit fully on the ground, and then leans against Genji with a sigh. “You know me too well.”

 

“Is this because you weren’t allowed to do your one-on-ones?” Genji sets his bowl aside, and he brings an arm behind Zenyatta, so his shoulderblades would rest upon it.

 

Zenyatta sees their hands are close together on the floor, but he resists taking it. Genji being close to him was enough. He simply nods.

 

“It’s… the first time I’ve gone on a peace mission this big without being allowed to do it. They projected the crowds to be quite big, and hard to control, and after what happened at France…” Zenyatta shakes his head. “Brother Mondatta wouldn’t have it.”

 

Genji lowers his head. “I was surprised, you know. I just assumed we were going to have one again, I thought you didn’t mention it while we planned it… because it seemed so basic now? It was our thing.”

 

And Genji’s fingertips brush the back of Zenyatta’s palm, and still, Zen resists taking it. Zen continues,

 

“Well, it was still a successful outreach. It wasn’t as if we just sat and did nothing, but…”

 

“It’s really important to you, isn’t it?” Genji nudges his body closer, until his leg glances against the fabric of Zen’s pants. “You  _ love _ being with everyone..”

 

“We have such vibrant… vibrant lives, Genji. I love hearing them, feeling like part of them in some way more than just… giving something and going.”

 

“Do you- do you think it’s selfish?” Zenyatta’s hands curl into fists. “We delivered emergency goods, donations, we reached out-  _ but _ . I just wanted to talk to people. It was successful, but because it didn’t cater to what I  _ wanted _ … It wasn’t enough for me.”

 

“You could have had both. I don’t think there’s anything wrong with wanting more of a  _ good _ thing… I’ve seen the way people  _ look _ when you’ve talked to them. When you’ve  _ helped _ them. Sometimes it helps to be heard, one-on-one. Heart-to-heart.”

 

And as if it was the most natural thing in the world, Genji’s hand slips under Zenyatta’s, and the sparks fly from his knuckles and Zenyatta swears his whole body’s rhythm is resynchronizing just from that one touch. And Zenyatta’s fingers lift up for a moment, before lacing together with Genji’s.

 

A perfect fit.

 

Genji smiles. “I for one can attest to how much it’s helped me. Hopefully… if we can iron out the security detail and whatnot… Mondatta would be willing to let you organize this again.”

 

“We’ll see.” And Zen sighs, and he leans against him even more. “Though I feel like part of why he’s been stopping my proposals is because he’s been annoyed with me. You know how it is.”

 

“You disagree with the way he does some things.” Genji nods. “I remember you talking about it when I was still a new student… And you know.” He rolls his eyes overdramatically, whole head rolling with it as well.  _ “Brothers.” _

 

“Brothers.” Zenyatta nods. “I do hope we’ll come to a compromise on things.”

 

“This has been wearing you down for a while now, hasn’t it, Zen?”

 

And Zenyatta squeezes Genji’s hand harder. Genji takes it as a yes.

 

“You know, even if, uh, I don’t live up here anymore, I’m always right nearby if you need to talk.”

 

“I know. I know.” Zenyatta turns to look at Genji. “I haven’t been strong enough to talk about what’s troubling me, so I am at fault for keeping you in the dark sometimes… But, ah, you always seem to figure it out anyway.”

 

“I won’t judge, don’t worry.” And Genji offers a big grin at him, before his face softens. “Is there anything more on your mind?”

 

Zenyatta pauses to go over his truths.  _ I really miss having you under the same roof as me. Closer to me _ . 

 

He then decides that’s a bit personal to divulge. “No, that’s all. How about you, Genji?”

 

And Genji stops for a moment, and he sees the endless snow, gorgeous in the light and beautiful, and he remembers his dream.

 

“Oh yeah, I dreamed about my parents last night. It was… a little sad, but I’m alright.”

 

“Ah. I see…”

 

“It reminded me of this funny thing, though. You know, we used to have a pond back in Hanamura, right?”

 

“Yes, I think you might have mentioned.”

 

“Well we had this big, fat, special koi fish in it. She was like, older than me. And we were all fighting to decide what its name would be. But then we remembered that, like, one of my aunts named it Sushi, and that’s the only name it had on any kind of official record.”

 

“Sushi? That’s an unfortunate name for a fish.” And Zenyatta chuckles.

 

“Heheh, that’s all, really. The rest was kind of a bittersweet memory.”

 

And Genji remembers his mother, and her soft eyes, and he remembers her words, ‘ _ See you soon _ ,’ and he doesn’t mention it. There’s something powerful about those words that he feels would break the peace.

 

For Zenyatta’s body seems to return to its stable tempo and whirr and calm, and so does his own body, and all the warmth in the world is between themselves and their interlaced fingertips.

 

Genji thinks, of how some nights he’d lay in his bed and look up to the ceiling and wonder what would it be like, to have all this warmth, to have all this music within reach next to him on the bed, and he wonders about the enormity of life and love available to him now after escaping the yakuza. He wonders about whether a younger version of himself would ever be able to comprehend something like this.

 

Shoulder to shoulder, leaning together, golden orbs circling around them. And though there is nothing but space surrounding them, few walls, endless mountains and winter air, it’s as if they’ve got the place just for themselves, both vast as the world and as small as the spot on the ground where their body heat will linger, even after they’ve gotten up.

 

“You know.” Zenyatta starts, “I’ve seen this view so many times in the years I’ve been here. Perhaps the truth is that I don’t get to appreciate it anymore. Not as much as I used to when I first arrived.”

 

“But it’s beautiful. At least, to me. It’s just… so much world out there.”

 

“No, it’s not just you. It really is beautiful, period.” Zenyatta sighs, happily now. “Having you here, seeing it a way I don’t normally get to… It really helps me appreciate it again.” Zen squeezes his hand. “Thank you, Genji.” 

 

And when Genji looks to see Zenyatta’s face, when he sees the light that reflects unto his faceplate from the snow, he wants to lean in closer.

 

He wants this.  _ He wants to reach forward and take his other hand and stand up and see if he really could dance. He wants to know what it’d be like, to hold him close and let their bodies move in perfect harmony. To be together. _

 

And Genji thinks, of long ago, of when he bounced lover to lover and couldn’t  _ comprehend _ . Of eternity, of infinity with someone, and when he died he thought his chances for that endlessness died with him.

 

But he is alive. And he is here.

 

And he is with  _ Zenyatta _ .

 

_ And he wants to kiss him, then and there _ . But he stops himself, for it’d be rude not to ask Zen for permission first, and there is no way the right words would escape his mouth.

 

So he simply thinks- no-  _ screams  _ it in his mind.  _ I love you. I want to kiss you. Would that be alright? _

 

And so he leans. Closer, and closer, and Zenyatta’s lights are shining bright and alert and he’s looking right as him and his body is drifting too, and-

  
  
  


_ “Brother Zenyatta!” _

 

Genji swears his body has shot out of his armor as Sister Bailey  _ materializes _ a few meters from them, and even Zenyatta is startled and scrambling to straighten himself up as the other monk approaches them.

 

Sister Bailey then freezes, and her freckle-like lights turn from light blue to pink. She raises a hand over her eyes and turns away. “O-oh, were… Were you two having a moment?”

 

“No! No, it’s nothing. Uh.” Genji grabs his bowl and quickly stuffs a few spoonfuls of Cold Breakfast in his mouth. Zenyatta, still shaking a little, somehow reverts to his usual seated-float and just claps his hands together, orbs recharged.

 

“Just talking between f-friends. What is it, Sister?”

 

“Wh… Well.” Bailey’s lights flash back blue and she composes herself as well. “Master Mondatta’s just reminding everyone about the debrief meeting after the second afternoon bell.”

 

“A-alright.” Zenyatta nods.

 

“And we’re also going to discuss the future missions after the Manila debrief. We just got approval for another one of them.”

 

“Another already? Do you have the details?”

 

Bailey nods excitedly, “Yup! The one in Tokyo!”

 

“Wait- Japan?” Genji’s jaw drops.

 

“When?” Zenyatta zooms closer.

 

“We just got the clear from the tourism board, from here on it should be easy to take care of the rest.” Bailey’s lights turn a soothing green, and she holds out her hands to try and calm them.

 

“It’s from April 27 to May 7.” She gives two thumbs up. “Sounds good? They sound like lucky dates to me~”

 

Genji pulls his jaw back up. His eyes only get wider, though.

“No way.” 

 

“What is it, Genji?”

 

“It’s Golden Week, Zenyatta.”

 

“We’re going to Japan on my anniversary.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Weeeeeell. Hope you liked that because OH BOY writing this chapter was a ride.
> 
> As always- I love your comments. I thrive off them and re-read them 10000 times a day. Thank you everyone and also, uh, sorry for emotions??? Just in case?? I love you all!
> 
>  
> 
> You can follow me at my [tumblr](http://7clubs.tumblr.com)! I am an artist first before a writer, so if I'm not updating MBS at least you can see me procrastinate and post that good Genyatta fanart over there.
> 
> I also have a [twitter](https://twitter.com/7GROVEYS) where I ramble and sometimes give updates on chapter progress.
> 
>  
> 
>  **Fanart**  
> [Chapter 2](https://gayintotheiris.tumblr.com/post/157990917065/i-found-this-part-in-this-fic-really-funny-poor) by gayintotheiris


	19. With Great Abandon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Genji returns to Hanamura.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey. It's been a month and I'm so, so grateful for you all being patient. School's just started again, among other things. 
> 
> You might have noticed there are Chapter titles now, just because I really wanted this one chapter to have one, and also: The overall chapter count went up!
> 
> Part of why this chapter took so long was that I was originally going to post this and the next one as one, but 3k words became 5k, then 8k, and after reaching the 10k mark and not even getting near started on the last major scene I thought, ok, that would be Way Too Long. 
> 
> The next chapter also happens to be the hardest one to write so far, which... further delayed it. I feel like it's going to be so worth it, though :3c
> 
> That said, this is about 6.5k. Enjoy~ Also, little note that I took a lot of creative liberties with how Hanamura looks, because it would be different as a level design vs. a real place, I feel.
> 
> Warning for discussions of death, cemeteries.
> 
> Thank you for commenting, for telling others about this fic, love you all~
> 
> **Chapter outfits:** [[click]](http://7clubs.tumblr.com/post/163794002564/casual-genji-and-shambali-rep-zenyatta-b-just)

 

 

_ “Have you ever fallen in love?” _

 

 

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

 

He’s not sure how old he is in this memory. Nineteen, maybe twenty.

 

It’s winter in Hanamura, and Genji isn’t looking forward to braving the snow to head back to the Shimada estate, especially when he was likely to bump into some elder who’d then chastise him for fucking up another business meeting.

 

They’d be less angry in the morning, perhaps. The moment he arrived at the meeting, all he had wanted was for it to end, anyway, since he had a date to catch.

 

And catch it, he did, when the meeting ended prematurely. A date with a side of fresh sausage stuffed-crust pizza, heavy sweaters, arms linked as he and his lover walk through the streets and kick up snow towards his partner’s place, away from the Shimada.

 

They finish their food early and decide to grab hot coffee for takeout too, and cuddle together on the couch later taking slow sips of it.

 

He just wanted to be warm and safe on that couch with an arm wrapped around him. That would be enough, and this was that.

 

And Genji thought, back then, that this could be love.

 

But instead, when he shrugs off his shirt and craves the intimacy of skin meeting skin, his lover sees the green dragon twisting up his back and he immediately yells at him to  _ get out. _

  
  


_ (No, no. Maybe it’s just not for me.) _

 

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

 

 

 

Days grow shorter and the snow thicker, and despite his augmentations ensuring he never has to worry about his core temperature, Genji still feels the cold in the howling mountain winds at night, in the faint ringing of the bells outside his room. He feels the cold seeing the people shovel up snow, in how heavy their coats are, or how sometimes stray yaks could wander into the village and huddle by a hearth.

 

But then there’s the warmth when he hears activity in the floor below, whenever the neighbor invites him along for an early breakfast beside them. When he sits and watches the dancers practice from his balcony for the coming Lhosar festival, and he wonders if he could tag along.

 

And at first, he’s worried how it’ll affect his time with Zenyatta, not living under the same roof as him- but Zenyatta surprises him some mornings, knocking at the door. Zenyatta often hovers by him as he eats breakfast, making good conversation with the humans around them, laughing-  _ oh how charmingly he laughs-  _ when Genji interjects with food still in his mouth.

 

There are some days where it feels their time together is scarce, but still- Zen’s a comforting constant.

 

Genji has to focus even harder whenever they meditate on his balcony together, with the people passing by under them trying to greet them, or purposely distract them in good-natured fun. Especially the children, ever so curious, in their oversized clothes, who come running up the stairs and wind up sitting with the two of them, pretending to meditate as well, or end up sprawling on their laps. Mostly Zenyatta’s, for they like to float together with him.

 

And Genji listens with wonder, every time Zenyatta recounts one of the stories from his old films to the children. He speaks simply and slowly and Genji listens to every word, because for one his Nepali is still a little rough even though he’s become quite conversational at it already, and for another- he  _ still _ marvels over the cadence of his voice.

 

(Once the kids are away, the two huddle together and poke fun at the unnecessary and darker plot twists of the story that Zenyatta had kindly omitted for the younger audience.)

 

They pass the late mornings making their way up the slopes to the monastery, and Genji finds himself with more to talk about on his constant reunions with the other monks.

 

Even Mondatta leans closer sometimes when Genji’s got a circle exchanging the latest gossip in the village. 

 

Sister Najah’s lights glow bright red when the other monks tease her about how wonderfully Priya had danced during the festival, how she was so transfixed at the human that her fans could be heard by the whole Shambali as they watched.

 

(Genji debates internally about heading back to the village to find the dancer, and tease her in turn about her crush on the omnic monk.

 

And perhaps, in secret, he asks Priya and the other dancers if someone would be willing to coach him, too.)

 

\- - - - - - - - - -

 

At night, Genji still tosses in bed and stares at the ceiling.

 

He still thinks of holding him close. He thinks of twirling him around ( _ would it be like a breath and weightless with how Zenyatta floats, or would all that metal be a delightfully heavy push-and-pull _ ?) He wonders how easily his hands could wrap around that waist.

 

He still dreams of kissing him. He dreams of endless mountains and the world, his metal faceplate with all its colors, the sparks between their fingertips and how his face was  _ close, so so close. _

 

But then, there are his visions of Hanamura. Each day as the months pass, it draws closer and closer, through festivals and through the start of spring. He joins the other Shambali at times as they discuss their coming plans for it, and though it’s a little awkward he approaches Mondatta too.

 

He has his own plans, deeply personal, that he must attend to while he’s there in Japan.

 

He has nights at the outskirts of his village where he practices, where he draws his sword and his spirit dragon, breathing calmly and using his blade or his hands to guide it to follow his will, to flow without spitting thunder and fire unless he commands it to.

 

There are memories, always the other memories, of his crimes in Blackwatch, of this great dragon ripping through his enemies, of his guilt, but he lets them go, and his dragon calms, and he tells it and himself  _ I will only use you for self-defense, for emergencies _ .

 

Genji thinks back to the beginning, back to his old home. He thinks of it, and he thinks of Zenyatta’s advice to face his past. These alongside the persisting image of his mother, her face and voice as clear as it was back when he had dreamed of her.

 

“See you soon.” He says, to the void of his room.

 

 

 

\- - - - - - - - - -

 

 

 

_ Tokyo, Japan. _

 

 

Genji looks at himself over and over in the hotel room mirror. The plain black shirt is a strange contrast to his scratched up face, and it only makes him more conscious of his armored hands as their seams and complex details stand against the featureless dark of his long sleeves.

 

His pants aren’t the baggy ones he’s eternally fond of- ones he preferred back when he was still honing his skills as a fighter, or during his time in Overwatch’s cozy jumpsuits, or the light and airy ones he often donned sometimes while he wandered the world. Nor were they denim, nor scratched up, nor adorned with bright stripes and patterns. Just a dark grey, neither tight nor too loose, pockets.

 

Something he can climb over walls in, just in case, but also something he can look respectable in.

 

Genji sighs and takes his visor off the shelf beside the long mirror and covers up his face. The stark neon green of his eyepiece seems to balance his whole look better, bringing back a streak of vibrant color that he can’t help but appreciate.

 

He skips the shoes, his armor didn’t track dirt and his footfalls are silent. It wasn’t as if omnics wore them much, and he’d accepted that he passed as one quite easily.

 

He pockets the keycard to his room, slings a bag over his shoulder. It’s dark like the rest of his wardrobe, with light diamonds down the strap that perfectly mimic those on the handle and sheath of his sword- behind him, disguised as part of the bag’s strap.

 

It was hard enough getting it past customs. He hopes nobody will question it, or that he’ll even need to use it.

 

He pauses at the mirror again, and then reaches to roll and tie the ribbon at the back of his head into a topknot. For one thing, it was less likely to snag or be grabbed, on the other, it was kind of stylish.

 

Genji strikes a pose with an invisible bow and arrow. He laughs.

 

Genji then heads out of his hotel room. He lingers by a window at the end of the hallway to look out over the neighborhood, smiling when he sees the sakura in bloom peppered throughout the streets. Near the stairwell he can hear the bustling human guests and Shambali assistants echo from the small dining area a floor below. He’d eaten in advance, though, before he dressed. He had a lot to cover for the day.

 

He takes a deep breath, and then looks to the room right across the stairwell- Zenyatta’s. Genji steps forward and knocks, and after a brief pause he hears it click.

 

Genji’s eyes widen as Zenyatta swings the door open and looks to him. His faceplate is a little polished, his lights are bright icy blue, his orange garb replaced with the more traditional, white Shambali robes. Genji could get lost following the geometric but elegant patterns down the fabric, but his eyes do make their way back to meet Zen’s.

 

Zen tilts his head, “Good morning, Genji. Do you want to go in? I’m still getting prepared.”

He steps aside and gestures inward. Genji nods, entering and looking around the room curiously, even if it’s identical to his save for the untouched bed, and implements specifically for omnic guests. Genji perches on the edge of the bed, and watches as Zenyatta closes the door and turns back to his mirror, fixing his robes to the last detail, tightening the sash around his waist. While it isn’t one, It’s reminiscent of the silhouette of a kimono, formal looking in contrast to Genji’s more practical outfit.

 

Eventually Zenyatta sits down next to him on the bed, wordless, though his orbs easily widen their orbit and start to flow around the pair of them, something they’ve done hundreds of times now. Genji gets lost in their humming noise in an instant, though he snaps back when Zenyatta places a hand on his lap.

 

“You look like you have a lot on your mind, Genji.”

 

He gulps and nods. “Y-yeah. I still can’t believe this is it.”

 

“Mmmhm. I really wish I could accompany you.”

 

“Zen, it’s alright. You have a job to do. I’m technically not a monk, and, err… Mondatta understands I have business here.”

 

“I know. I know.” Zenyatta nods. “I’m just concerned. You’re facing something big, and I trust your abilities, it’s just-” He squeezes Genji, “-the Shambali has quite the security detail, and  _ I’ll _ be safe, but you’re going alone, and I suppose the remaining Shimada aren’t too fond of you.”

 

“Nope.’ Genji chuckles awkwardly. “But I can fend them off. I’m honestly more anxious about what I’ll find out… or worse, that I won’t find any answers at all.”

 

“We still have more than a week ahead. I’m sure you’ll learn something by the end of the trip.” Zenyatta pulls his hand back, and then sits up straight. “So, what’s the plan for today?”

 

“...Visit my parents, first and foremost.”

 

“Ah.” Zenyatta bows his head. “How do I say this… shall I. Send my prayers.”

 

Genji nods. “Thank you.”

 

“...Are. Are you sure you’ll be alright alone?”

 

“Zenyatta-” And he bumps his side playfully, “We’ve been meditating for over a year. I’ll be alright. I’ll call the security if something comes up, which it won't.” He punctuates it with an angry hum, an over-annoyed expression, and that just makes Zenyatta chuckle.

 

“Alright. So, what else?”

 

“I’ll be looking for answers, like I said. I’ll ask around the village, and uh, I guess I’m breaking into my old house again. Though I mean, the Shimada plot in the cemetery is gated too. So I’m breaking into places anyway.”

 

“Strange where fate takes us, sometimes.”

 

“Right? And then I guess if I have time, I’ll just… look around.” Genji breathes in deeply. “It’s been so long, I just want to see how Hanamura’s doing.”

 

“My schedule’s quite full, but I think I can visit as well later in the week. I really do hope so- find me the best sights, Genji.”

 

Genji snorts. “I will… “ He then pushes himself back unto his feet. “Right, I should head to the station.”

 

Zenyatta stands after him, “Would you want me to accompany you there?”

 

“Whuh-” Genji quickly glances at a clock, and then back at Zenyatta. “Are you sure?”

 

“It’s not too far. I’ll have time to get to my meeting.”

 

“Master, I don’t want you to be late.” He watches as Zenyatta moves towards him, extends his arm, and despite that he’s still surprised when Zenyatta then clasps his hand. Genji flushes.

 

“I insist. You could show me around just a little, while we have the time.”

 

And when Genji looks over Zenyatta again and his wonderful robes, their hands clasped, and the soft glow of his orbs cast over his faceplate, he feels his body whirr and flutter and he knows he can’t miss this for the world.

 

\- - - - - - - - - -

 

The district they’re staying in doesn’t have nearly as much sakura as Hanamura, but it’s still a pleasant sight to Genji, especially with his hand slowly swaying together with Zenyatta’s. There aren’t as many people milling around in the early morning, the streets overall seem less congested than he remembered them being in his youth. It’s a day before the actual start of the holiday week and thus a calm before the storm, and the two of them find the time on their short walk to watch the koinobori flutter above houses and stores and over landscaped gardens at the fronts of large buildings.

 

Genji catches Zenyatta staring at him instead of the scenery at some point, and he barely sputters out a thanks as Zenyatta compliments his topknot.

 

That makes the rest of the short trip a blur for Genji, and before he knows it he’s being ushered through an omnic scanner at the entrance of the station. Zenyatta makes his most theatrical of annoyed groans, but soon enough they’re at the automatic ticketing counter and watching hypertrains come and go.

 

Genji squeezes Zenyatta’s hand one last time and then moves his fingers back to find a gap in Zen’s wrist, stroking the wires beneath with a gentle buzz to his fingertips. Zenyatta makes a choked sound, and then Genji pulls away.

 

He looks around the station, before reaching up to stealthily raise his visor just off his lips. He offers Zenyatta a smile.

 

“It’s only a train ride away… I’ll be alright.”

 

Zenyatta’s orbs breathe in and out. “G-good luck and stay safe, Genji.”

 

Genji nods back. “You too. See you later.” And with that, he clicks his visor back on and walks through the gates.

 

Zenyatta starts walking up the steps and away from the platform. He holds onto the handrail as he looks around and sees Genji step into the hypertrain.

 

The doors linger open. A few other people come in. Zenyatta walks a few more steps up. Once he’s at the top, the doors close and the train speeds away, Genji along with it.

 

Zenyatta sighs, and then turns back towards the exit. At the top of the stairs is a map of the local district. Seems like it won’t take too long for him to get to where he’s assigned to, or even back to the hotel to get a ride with the other monks.

 

Then he looks over at the stations map. Hanamura’s among them, with tiny pictures of sakura trees and other landmarks and tourist traps fanning out from its dot.

 

He hears the roar of another train pull in, and in the vicinity he sees people pass by the ticketing counter and down the stairs.

 

_ He’ll be alright, _ Zenyatta tells himself,  _ he’s more than capable of handling foes should he come across them. He can handle anything he finds, as well. _

 

_ He can do this by himself. _

 

Zenyatta starts heading for the exit. He raises a few brows, even hears the strangers discuss among themselves in hushed tones-  _ “Is that a Shambali monk? They look familiar.” _

 

But all he can think of is Genji. All he can think of are his stories of Hanamura in its details and complexities alongside its simple pleasures.

 

And he remembers that night, in his stage costume. He remembers two lovers sharing a laugh.

 

And he can remember-  _ no _ \- he can  _ feel _ it, not from the past, but _ now _ . He can feel the Iris, calling him, tugging him. He feels life in all his vibrance, and it tells him- he tells himself-  _ you have to go back. _

 

And Zenyatta almost,  _ almost  _ crosses the door out of the station.

 

But then,  _ he’s turning around, he’s running and his robes are flying behind him, the people who stole glances at him are back into view and are just as quickly behind him, the maps are a blur, he’s at the ticket counter and rushing downstairs, _

  
  


And with great abandon, Zenyatta enters the next train.

  
  
  


 

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

 

_ “Have you ever been in love?” _

 

Zenyatta knows those are the words he just processed, but despite that, he looks to his human co-star and makes a confused tone. “Pardon?”

 

The actress chuckles and repeats it. “Like, have you ever had a significant other? Or crush on someone? Another omnic?”

 

“Hmm.” Zenyatta turns back to his mirror, and takes his mask off, feeling a little spark as the electrical components of it disconnect from his own nodes. Then he pops it back on, and this time it clicks more securely. “I don’t think so. I’ve only ever focused on my work.”

 

“Come on, some of the other omnics in your troupe are cute.” She pauses to dab on some makeup. “Err, at least I think they are. What kind of omnics are you into? Or humans?”

 

“I really haven’t thought about it.” Zenyatta sighs. “I don’t think I’m interested in humans, either.”

 

Zen gets up and walks over to a desk, and there he picks up a copy of the script. He memorized it all months ago, and yet there is something charming about flicking through the pages of dialogue.

 

(There is also something about it that ignites a feeling he can’t place, and when he looks back at the memory later, it is perhaps sadness, longing. He reads through a script full of flowery declarations of love, of pining, and he lingers upon the actresses’ questions, and he feels too little where he thinks he should feel so much more.)

 

The actress gets up and fixes her costume a little, and then turns to him with a faint chuckle. “And yet you’re starring in a romance.”

 

Zenyatta shrugs, “It’s just acting.”

 

“Yeah, I know, and honestly, this story’s a little corny. Not as subtle.” She skips over to him with a grin, though. “But it really adds another dimension to performance when you’re drawing from a real experience. I think about my girlfriend whenever I go out on stage.” 

 

“That’s lovely. Does she watch all your shows?”

 

“She’s in the backstage crew, actually. You know, you’ve seen her, she waves to me when she’s hiding behind a prop. I love her.”

 

“Oh. I didn’t notice...” Zenyatta closes the script, looks back at the actress. “She doesn’t mind whenever we have to go through the kissing scene again?”

 

She snorts. “I think she does, a little. She insists on giving me a bunch after practice. Like, twice whatever I have to give you.”

 

“And you don’t find that a little troublesome?” Zenyatta mentally counts and calculates just how many that must be. A lot, considering how indecisive the director is sometimes.

 

“Not at all-” she shakes her head, “-I like them. Actually, maybe you should flub it a few times so,  _ you know, _ I can get some more action.” She elbows Zenyatta and he just laughs along and agrees, though he doesn’t really understand, nor is he looking forward to another long day having to make minute adjustments to his acting at the director’s whims.

 

The stage manager pops into their room, soon enough, and Zenyatta lets life and love slip away from his thought processes as the dress rehearsal begins.

 

_ (No. But I understand it as much as I need to.) _

 

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

 

 

  
  
  


Walking out unto the Hanamura station, Genji is shocked at how so much of it is the same.

 

There are decor and decals that have been there for a decade, overshadowed by bright new graphics. New screens put up where once there was none, but the stand they sit on are the same posts he’s seen in the past. The mascot on a store advertisement has slightly simplified lines, but the pose is the same. There’s a bench he used to sit on with Hanzo, though they finally filled up the crack on one of the legs.

 

The tiled floor is the same. The faintest click of his prosthetic feet on them is the same as that of his sparrow sandals back in his training days. There was something so unique about this floor that it had soundless ninja footstep technology beat.

 

He lingers there for too long, taking in every detail when everyone else on his train has already walked through the gates ahead. His train fills up with a couple passengers and then goes, and he’s still there even as people from the train after his arrive and move past.

 

The station is relatively spacious given its massive size and yet he scopes around to see if there are any familiar faces, too, but there are none, and he’s not sure whether to be relieved or sad. His eyes do catch the bottom of a very pink and very large poster at the top of some stairs though, and after forever he walks through the gates. More of the poster moves into view from beyond the low ceiling.

 

It’s as if it has him hypnotized, in a trance, when he sees the photos of cherry blossom trees in their high definition.

 

There’s a roar behind him as he hears another train arrive at the station.

 

_ And then _ , footsteps much like his, metal against the tiled floor, but  _ fast _ , and then. There’s his voice.

 

“Genji!”

 

At the speed that Genji turns around and opens his arms, it’s a miracle he and Zenyatta don’t crash into the stairs. Because his most natural instinct is to hug him, hug him as if he hasn’t seen him in ages. Zenyatta is laughing and squeezing him back with just as much fervor, and he sounds as if he’s just ran a marathon- infinitely happy, and as if he was out of breath even though he hadn’t one to begin with, though his body was whirring so loudly and filling the space between them with music.

 

Genji latches, feels himself floating ever so slightly off the ground, he nuzzles his head unto those robes, and he realizes he’s also out of breath with how much he’s been giggling as well. It’s only when the next train starts to pull in that they walk up the stairs and towards the exit.

 

Genji takes one look at the time display, and then back at Zenyatta, he huffs- “This is… this is ridiculous, Zeny, you’re going to be late-”

 

“They can do the meeting without me.” Zenyatta hums cooly, and shrugs. “And I don’t see you turning back.”

 

“I know! This is the most irresponsible shit we’ve ever done-” He’s grinning widely under his visor as they walk out the station, breath still loud and huffing with the hint of his laughter. 

 

He’s then struck silent as finally the city he knows so dearly comes into view, and it isn’t too hard to pick out Hanamura’s district up on a hill, with its walls and the distinct change in architecture... And the bigass castle, of course. Zenyatta stops with him, admiring the view as well.

 

“Mondatta’s going to freak out.” Genji finally says.

 

“I know.” Zenyatta snickers and then takes Genji’s hand once more. “Well, let’s go.”

 

\- - - - - - - - - -

 

A few steps into Hanamura’s gates and the two of them already have vibrant pink petals stuck unto them.

 

Hanamura is truly the most beautiful in the spring.

 

Genji brushes a couple off his shirt but gives up when just walking forward makes another get stuck to his pants. Zenyatta doesn’t seem to mind at all, simply gasping around in awe.

There are lines of traditional houses and quaint shops alongside parks and gardens, there are cherry blossoms wherever they turn, a soft pink freckling the shops and banners. Here and there are houses accented with bright red, a splash of light against dark brown roofs and wood. The streetlights still light up gold against the dim blue, cloudy sky. Strung along posts are lanterns, tempting them to explore the tighter streets that they snake into.

 

There are streams and bridges over which koinobori of every color fly over, in addition to those that fly over the shops. Zenyatta sometimes chuckles and gestures over at vibrantly colored mascot. Genji is pleased to find Rikimaru still at the same spot that it has been.

 

Genji finds old businesses relocated a few streets over. He finds the sidewalk a little wider in some places, smaller in others.

 

They pass by the great walls of the Shimada estate, and Genji hurries past and he knows that it’ll be a quest for later. Later they then walk over a bridge leading to a more park-like area, and together find a bench to sit down on while Genji sifts through his bag.

 

Zenyatta puts his hands together and looks over the streets of Hanamura. The park is at a perfect distance for him to catch a panorama of it in his mind.

 

“Your hometown is lovely.”

 

“It really is.” Genji pulls out a cylindrical container from his bag. Zenyatta glances over the characters at its front- incense. He stays quiet as Genji also takes a long look over the village.

 

“I see a lot more shops now compared to when I was in Blackwatch.” Genji reaches up and takes his whole faceplate off, putting it into the bag. The spring morning is cool against his skin.

 

“Back then, there were just a lot of shops and buildings around that I didn’t see being used. I mean… most of the businesses were associated with my family. Or owned by them.”

 

“It’s nice. There’s more variety now. And less of the seedy looking stores.” He squeezes the incense box tighter, “Though it’s strange, too, seeing the village move on without us. The Shimada made this place what is is, and now there’s just the castle, and the family plot, and just… remnants.”

 

_ And it’s because of me, _ Genji thinks. It’s because of him that his family has faded.  _ Shimada _ and crime and dark rumors are no longer the face of the district, now, it’s cherry blossom festivals and legitimately run businesses.

 

_ It’s better that way, _ Genji assures himself. Death comes with rebirth.

 

He’ll have an opportunity to see how it’s preparing for Golden Week later, once more of the shops are open. For now, Genji slides off the bench, looks to the path through the park area. 

 

Zenyatta follows, “Ah. Is the cemetery this way?”

 

Genji nods, and they continue ahead, stopping by a flower shop on the way. Genji is picky with the colors, and the bundles they come in, and quietly points out his parents’ favorites, and even those of family members Zenyatta has never heard about from him.

 

They burn incense at the shrine by the cemetery. They pick up a tub of water, and Genji is ready with a cleaning brush. They make their way to the vast plot owned by the Shimada, sneak over the gates that deter many that wouldn’t have had qualms desecrating the graves of assassins.

 

Centuries of history all in one place, with different branches of the family having their own sites. But soon, Genji makes his way to his parents’ grave marker.

 

Zenyatta takes a moment, and then sets down the water. Genji takes off his bag and looks over the stone. It’s neat and well maintained, all things considered, but he takes the brush and water and cleans it once more. Zenyatta kneels with him, trimming and pulling a few stray weeds that have fallen unto the stone. They clean the vase, place the flowers inside.

 

Genji stays silent, even if he finds it strange how it seems the vase had been used recently.

 

Finally, he pulls out matches and the two of them light more incense. Genji pours water over the grave, and after a deep breath he kneels down next to Zenyatta.

 

_ I’m here now, Mother _ , he thinks as he looks over her engraved name.  _ I miss you, Father _ , he thinks as he puts his hands together.

 

_ And I am sorry for so many things _ , he almost says, the words ghosting upon his lips.

 

Zenyatta doesn’t know what to think at first when he prays, for no amount of stories could ever help him know Genji’s parents, but finally he composes something for the spirits.

 

_ Your son is well, and he is safe, and he is healing. Thank you for raising him. _

 

They linger until the incense has finished burning. Genji cleans up a little more, and then they head for another part of the plot, to gravestones a little rougher around the edges, to markers that make Genji drop to his knees, and all Zenyatta can hear from him is the faintest sound of  _ sorry, sorry, I am so sorry _ .

 

Genji makes sure there isn’t a speck of dust left on any of them, and he carefully picks out flowers for each, and empties another tin of incense. Zenyatta gives him distance, having no idea what to even say for these names he doesn’t know, having no idea what to do when Genji is silently weeping, or stifling his sobs when they grow louder.

 

He doesn’t know what to do when there are so many graves and unknown names where Genji grieves by. He doesn’t know what to say when they leave the plot and Genji stops and makes offerings to a shrine for those who were never found.

 

They leave the tub and head back out to the park. Genji spends some time at the docks to a small pond, making the windsocks flying over actual carp his company until Zenyatta leans in to squeeze his shoulder and break the silence.

 

“Are you alright?”

 

Genji sniffles, and nods. “Yeah. It’s just… a lot of emotions to take in.” He pauses as Zenyatta sits next to him. The sky is much brighter now, clouds giving way to the sun.

 

He then wipes at his eyes, “It’s… overwhelming, but at the same time I feel like it’s a burden off me.” He smiles sadly. “It’s been years coming.”

 

“I see.” Zenyatta nudges close to him, bringing the warmth of his orbs close to Genji as well. He makes a pleased hum in turn.

 

“You’ll be alright, Genji.”

 

“Yeah. Thanks for coming along.”

 

“...” Zenyatta makes a huffing sound, “Are we going to the castle after this?”

 

“I think I need a little more time.”

 

“Alright.” Zen ponders for a while, thinking about how the Shambali might be progressing without him. He can’t help but feel like he’s forgotten something, but he doesn’t have any major roles on this summit, so he lets his worries slide away.

 

Genji raises his head, “Do you want me to show you around some more?”

 

“Huh. I suppose~ And we could get some information about what’s changed in the past few years.”

 

Genji nods, and with that he reaches into his bag to put his faceplate back on. “Let’s go.”

 

\- - - - - - - - - -

 

Genji’s not sure how much time he spent at the cemetery, but returning to the main streets he sees much more activity- shops open, people setting up more decorations for Golden Week, tourists.

 

Omnics too, and Genji’s surprised to see them with more frequency- he wonders if any of them are old Shimada guards. It’s quite hard to tell, as it seems decorating and painting faceplates is popular around the area. Festival season apparently means that sakura stickers are also in fashion

 

The two of them occasionally exchange nods with their robotic fellowmen. Some recognize Zenyatta as Shambali, and more than once Genji finds himself in a group wishing and blessing each other with the Iris.

 

Then, it’s back to window shopping, and them garnering a few odd looks whenever Genji eyes some food. Genji spots a thrift shop and immediately gives in and buys two shirts, one of a hardcore glow-in-the-dark dragon’s maw and another incredibly pastel longsleeves with no less than three rabbits and a jackalope on it.

 

Zenyatta drags him into a bookstore and floats up to the forgotten novels at the top of the shelves. He walks out with a small novel with plenty of black-ink illustrations and tiny notes the previous owner had left in barely-there pencil that the resellers never noticed and that left Zenyatta with intrigue.

 

They spend a whole twenty minutes trapped in a store when they sit down and wait for the shop owner to fix the register, which didn’t take long at all, it’s just that the owner’s cats climbed unto their warm laps and refused to leave. Eventually they do leave with a charmingly colorful koi-shaped pouch.

 

Normally, Genji would feel strange, being a tourist in his own hometown, but the way Zenyatta views even the most normal things with interest only helps Genji appreciate the local products with a new lens.

 

Zenyatta’s orbs almost break a window when he enters a very narrow door. Genji panics when Zenyatta sifts through a souvenir display and proceeds to get a dozen or so magnets stuck onto his arms, even when Zenyatta explains that such small ones don’t have an effect on him.

 

All the while, they get little bits of information about the Shimada. Many people know others who used to be associated with them, some businesses to this day partner with others even without the Shimada as a middleman as they have before.

 

With the family gone, nobody lives in the castle anymore except for guards and caretakers. Nobody knows who has a legal claim on the place now that the main family is apparently all dead and the rest of the branch family is scattered about and everyone is accusing the other of being a disgrace to the name and, thus, unworthy of inheritance. The local government- some of which Genji knows are former collaborators themselves- however mandated that it was a heritage site and thus had to be maintained. Plenty of treasures have vanished throughout the years, but those with an undying loyalty to the clan keep the rest safe.

 

The simplest way to describe it, however, is that it’s being kept aloft by a mess of interests both noble and selfish, both by those stubbornly loyal and those who are simply biding their time to stake their claim and steal away.

 

Some say gangsters with the emblems of wolves and foxes sometimes prowl around the castle’s walls, and Genji smiles at the thought of those from his mother’s side of the family still keeping up with their alliance with the dragons.

 

Some people say they’ve seen the caretakers wander out of the castle compound in clothes old-fashioned and greatly covered up in the summer, hiding tattoos that mark their whole bodies.

 

Some people talk of rebellious youngsters who no doubt have just learned of their hushed heritage as distant relatives of the Shimada, and come to receive the tattoos whose powers have become sort of a legend in the years since the clan fell. Always, always, they get turned down.

 

Genji hears of reports, from far away and even different countries, of people who’ve witnessed great dragons in green and blue. 

 

When he asks them what they think happened to the Shimada heirs, they get everything from shrugs to conspiracy theories, but ultimately: nobody knows.

 

Genji and Zenyatta find a bench under some more sakura to study and discuss their haul of merchandise and information.

 

Ultimately, Genji decides it’s best they go ahead and investigate the castle, though with his stomach growling despite a takoyaki break, Zenyatta nudges him to head back to the old ramen shop.

 

Rikimaru still has a big windsock, though now it’s a fat koi in addition to being a very long one. Genji realizes he’s never had to even look at the prices of the noodles before and calculate if he has enough on him, and he makes a face when he sees there’s a fee for extra vegetables. He also spends a minute scrutinizing the people behind the counter, trying to figure out if a face is a decade older from a familiar one or just a different one entirely, before he catches the cashier’s strange look and Genji finally admits that, yes, he’s human, yes, he’s here for food.

 

He finishes four whole bowls and it tastes exactly the same, as well as a side dish he never even knew was on the menu. They even get the private booth for free when Genji asks for it, and he figures this time it’s because he’s with Zenyatta, the manager quietly gushing about the Shambali.

 

And as he eats he’s content in the silence, save for the pop music that’s still many decades old. Zenyatta sits across him reading the tiny secondhand book and seeming to focus whenever he’s trying to decipher the faded notes in pencil.

 

And as Zenyatta reads, he’s content to glance over the pages and at Genji slurping up noodles and crunching cabbage.

 

At the back of his mind, he wonders why he turned back, why he rushed for the next train.  _ What was the Iris trying to tell me? _ He has no answer, and yet, his whims make perfect sense somehow.

 

_ In this moment, it feels right for me to be here. _

 

\- - - - - - - - - -

 

Genji slows down after a while, and his feet start tapping at the floor, chopsticks clicking indecisively at the last few noodles at the bottom of the broth. Zenyatta lowers his book and looks at him with concern.

 

“Genji?”

 

“Mmmh?” Genji glances up at him. His free hand is reaching for his visor.

 

“...Are you done?”

 

Genji stares at him longer, and then makes a big sigh.

 

“Yeah. I think.”

 

Zenyatta puts the book into his new koi-pouch. “Do you think it’s time?”

 

“I need to see it. I need to investigate.” He gets up from his seat. Zenyatta nods, and reaches out to squeeze his hand..

 

“Let’s go.”

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, next chapter already has a lot of it written on account of how it was originally supposed to be posted together with this. Hopefully....... hopefully... god i hope i finish it soon
> 
> I might condense some of the earlier, shorter chapters into larger chapters once I finish this fic, just to keep the word count ranges more even.
> 
> You can follow me at my [tumblr](http://7clubs.tumblr.com)! I am an artist first before a writer, so if I'm not updating MBS at least you can see me procrastinate and post that good Genyatta fanart over there.
> 
> I also have a [twitter](https://twitter.com/7GROVEYS) where I ramble and sometimes give updates on chapter progress.
> 
>  
> 
> **Fanart**  
> [Chapter 2](https://gayintotheiris.tumblr.com/post/157990917065/i-found-this-part-in-this-fic-really-funny-poor) by gayintotheiris


	20. Falling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Here is where it happened, and here is where he finds it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay. I updated pretty soon after the last one like I hoped :3c
> 
> I'm very glad I split the chapters now because... guys. this is 8.2k words. Once upon a time I couldn't even imagine making one whole entire fic anywhere close to 10k and now uh. Goddang.
> 
> Anywho, I'm immensely proud of this chapter and I hope you all enjoy. Thank you all for your patience and comments~

 

It’s time.

 

Genji is surprised to find the security lax in the Shimada castle. Perhaps it’s because nobody breaks in under broad daylight, or perhaps it’s because they don’t expect people to scale the incredible walls with the same ease as a trained cyberninja and a monk who can literally levitate.

Or maybe it’s just because it’s been too long.

The security is scarce enough that Genji actually winds up relaxing once they’re deep enough into the compound. Too lax. A guard manages to sneak up on them that Zenyatta notices first, and before Genji even knows it they’ve been knocked out and Zenyatta’s in his striking pose.

 

Zen stays like that for a few moments before he jolts and then kneels down to apologize to the knocked out human, the thud of the orbs still ringing in Genji’s ears. He shudders to think it hurt like hell, and then walks over to make sure the guard is fine. Breathing, at the very least. Zen looks alright, too, if a little shaken.

 

“Thanks. I didn’t see him…”

 

“Stay alert, Genji. You know I don’t like resorting to violence, but he had a gun on him.” Zenyatta takes the weapon out of the man’s hands. “Hmm?”

 

“What is it?” Genji steps closer.

 

“Look. See that bruise on his arm?”

 

“But you hit him on the head.”

 

“My point exactly... Strange. Now, err.” Zenyatta hands the gun over to Genji.“Unload that, please, I’m not comfortable touching it. As for this man, well, we can’t just leave him around...” He picks up the guard and then watches as Genji empties the bullets into his palm and discards the gun. He then leads Zenyatta into another hallway, and finds a room they can lock the guard in.

 

As they sneak through the castle- easy with Genji’s nimble footsteps and Zenyatta’s lack of them- they notice plenty more guards that are injured. They almost run right into an omnic guard moping around and off duty with a tank top instead of a suit, smelling like metal sealant and sporting some tape wrapped around the modded horn on their head, along with some cracks in places.

 

Genji is surprised that he still knows the whole place like the back of his hand. He’s surprised he can recognize the rooms even with just fleeting glances and running quickly past them. There are places he thought he’d forgotten but come back vividly with memories the moment he sees them. There are rooms he’s only gotten to go through for the first time today, now that his relatives no longer occupy them.

Empty meeting areas, tables with layers of dust. The level of maintenance varies.

 

They then slink into another room to plan and talk.

 

“The way the locals put it, it doesn’t sound like big gang fights are common these days… What do you think happened?”

 

Zenyatta can only shrug. “You know this place better than me, and I don’t know. But I think it’s clear that there was a big attack recently.”

 

“I don’t see any major damage to the infrastructure though. It’s just that all the guards are injured for some reason…” Genji frowns under his visor. “If a horde of people broke in and attacked everyone recently you’d think word would get around the village, too.”

 

It takes a while for them to weave through the castle, watching the guards’ movements from the shadows and vantage points, finding opportunities to advance. Spotting cameras before they can go down halls, having to make detours where they are least likely to be spotted or heard. Genji wishes he could’ve given Zenyatta a map of the place, but he doesn’t seem to mind having to follow, and he’s a good lookout. They work together, and it’s a long time before Genji truly tenses up.

 

“It’s the farthest point from the entrance. But we’re getting closer.”

 

Genji swears his heart is beating louder, faster, throbbing in his ears. They’re close to the core, to the dojo.

 

To where it happened.

 

\- - - - - - - - - -

 

Zenyatta knows many things, too many things.

 

All of knowledge that he was given from the moment of first spark. Languages first and foremost, his core code, and then the names of each thing out in this world. Human concepts. Senses that he had to accept existed though they were alien to him, like taste and smell. Senses like touch that he had to learn, til sparks gave pain or pleasure, til the impulses and nerves and circuits in Genji's hand became like a home.

  
  
And he wants to reach out and hold Genji when he freezes up. When he stops at the end of the hall, and the silence is deathly.

  
  
He doesn't know why Genji stops when up ahead there is only a courtyard and petals falling down slowly, why his chest heaves so deeply.

  
  
"Genji. "

  
  
He doesn't answer. Zenyatta pauses, and then plucks an orb from his neck, kisses energy to it and then lets it float to Genji.

  
  
He still doesn't answer, nor even seem to notice. Zenyatta squints ahead. He hears no guards. He sees a large entryway ahead, but he can't see far beyond it.

  
  
It's only when Zen taps Genji's shoulder that he starts. "S-sorry. "

  
  
"Is this it? "

  
Genji nods, huffs.

  
  
"I'm with you. " Zenyatta moves to his side.

  
  
"Guard the exits, Zen. "

  
  
And with great abandon, Genji runs.

 

 

 

  
  
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * 

 

 

  
Genji remembers this: His father with his arm outstretched, his hand covered by a falconer's glove.

  
  
He's terrified.

  
  
Mother meanwhile is gleeful, a dimpled smile and crows’ feet beneath the head of a scowling wolf draped over her. She reaches into a cooler bag and pulls out gross-looking meat. Genji makes a face, Hanzo beside him seems incredibly focused, his hands balled in fists.

  
  
Sojiro laughs nervously as Momoka holds up his gloved hand and places the little piece of meat on it. He gulps.

  
  
"This isn't going to hurt, right?"

  
  
She purses her lips, her eyes smug.  "Trust me, Soji. Don't tell me you're scared of a bird, dear. "

  
  
"N-no... "

  
She chuckles, squeezes his wrist. ”You'll be alright. “

  
  
Momoka moves in to peck his cheek, and then she steps back and raises her hand up, a signal. Genji and Hanzo turn to look at a bird trainer also wearing wolf pelts, stationed several meters away. A goshawk flies from their hands and Sojiro tenses up, only to have its talons glance his hand. Hanzo gasps loudly and claps.

  
  
Eventually the goshawk lands on Momoka's glove and she beams and feeds it more meat as a reward. Sojiro takes off his glove after a held breath and walks over to his sons, relieved.

  
"So, who wants to try-"

  
  
"-Me. " Hanzo is starry-eyed and determined. Genji then butts in front of his brother, making a huge pout at their father.

  
  
Momoka sees them, and then calls Hanzo over to fit him with a glove. Sojiro looks between the large goshawk, and then at little Genji, who takes the oversized glove from Sojiro's hands.

  
"I'm... not sure-" Sojiro bites his lip at first, and then looks up as another one of the Wolves starts walking over from afar to assist them. Genji doesn't notice immediately, but as the trainer approaches he sees a small bird perched on their glove, flapping its barred brown wings.

 

  
  
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

 

 

  
  
_(And he smells incense and it is very much real. )_

  
  
\- - - - - - - - - -

 

  
Here are the things Genji knows. He knows the grand room with its lanterns lit. He knows the Dragons of the Winds from the stories his father told him long ago, passed down from generation to generation, their serpentine forms flying over all and instilling those under the dojo’s roof with their inspiration and strength.

  
  
He knows the tapestry with its gorgeous ink, bold and powerful. He knows it down to where it is broken, to where his own blood stains it.

  
  
He knows the smell of incense.

  
  
He knows of the feathers of sparrows and sparrowhawks and their differences, taught by a mother with her eyes sparkling bright, of nicknames given to young boys who are too much trouble despite their size.

  
  
He just doesn't know why it's _there_ , waiting for him.

  
  
And Zenyatta stays back, guarding the exit yet taking in the majesty of the dojo. He wants to memorize it, memorize it perfectly for Genji's sake.

  
  
He only rushes forward when Genji crumbles to his knees, and he also doesn't know.

  
  
Zenyatta doesn't know why Genji stares at a little feather or why it’s there at all, why he hugs it to his chest and why his breaths sound like sobbing.

  
  
He doesn't know why Genji claws his visor off, why his eyes are wild as he grabs the incense holder and turns it upside down, and why he empties mere ashes into his palm.

  
  
He doesn't know why Genji breaks the incense so delicately in his palm, fingers sifting through grey dust as if it held the answers to the universe.

  
  
He doesn't know, and can never know the smell of incense, faint and hanging in the air, of it charred and sitting in the palm of the person it was lit for.

  
  
All he knows is that when Genji bends forward, weak, and starts crying, he's there to hold him, and Zenyatta tells him this: " _I'm here._ ”

 

  
\- - - - - - - - - -

  
  
(I am alive. And you are here. )

  
\- - - - - - - - - -  
  


 

Hanamura truly is gorgeous in the spring, Genji thinks, as he looks out the window, from a hallway overlooking the garden where, even now, he can perfectly remember the picture of his father walking through.

 

It is also haunting in its silence. A massive tree with few to admire it thanks to walls on all sides, a sea of cherry blossom petals with no one dedicated to sweeping them off the walkways- pink, almost white like snow. Overgrown vines where they are hard to reach, abandoned treasures that were only treasures in sentimentality, and whose sentiments only belonged to ghosts now.

 

To think that, if he had the gall to, he could claim it all for himself.

 

He’s taken his helm off completely, stuffed it into his bag along with the other pieces of his visor so he could feel the wind in his hair, so he could feel like his head isn’t trapped and that he could actually process the weight of his thoughts. He plays with the feather in his hand, with such deftness like spinning a pencil. He hears Zenyatta behind him, neck whirring as he looks down to watch the feather.

 

Genji gulps. Right on cue, Zenyatta asks. "What is it?"

 

"Feather of a sparrowhawk... Juvenile, to be exact."

 

Zenyatta nods, though he did already know that before. What he doesn’t know is what it means.

 

Genji raises a brow at Zen, who continues to stare at the feather. Genji’s eyes look as if they’re trying to peer into his mind.

 

He then continues, "It means something... special to me."

 

"I see. "

 

Genji breathes deeply. Then he takes an empty incense tin from his bag, neatens out the feather, and places it in for safekeeping.

 

“...”

 

“What is it, Zen?”

 

“Are you alright?” Zenyatta’s hand moves smoothly over his back.

 

Genji offers him a smile. He leans in and lightly bumps Zenyatta’s side.

 

“I’m alright now.” Genji zips up the bag, and his smile grows and pinches at his eyes. He then moves towards the door, and extends his arm to the other. “Come on, Zen, let me tell you about this place.”

 

\- - - - - - - - - -

 

_Sparrow. Let me tell you about this castle, your birthright._

 

His fingers brush past ceremonial swords in bulletproof glass. There are more displays, but they are empty now.

 

Genji opens his mouth and finds himself echoing the words of his father, normally too lofty for his own lips.

 

_The Shimada clan’s roots stretch back centuries, and we have mixed with other families with as ancient of a legacy._

 

He guides Zenyatta’s hand over the dips of wooden reliefs, of snarling dragons and jumping fish and wolves and monsters.

 

_This place grew, and grew as the branches of our clan spread, as did our power. We were always masters of the fighting arts. Masters of strategy, cunning and smart and ambitious. We were dragons._

 

There are endless hallways and rooms and more rooms, mostly empty save for beds without mattresses and polished floors with streaks where dust has been wiped off them.

 

_The Shimada joined businessmen and artisans and scientists. We grew a network around the country and even to some parts of the world… And then. We discovered a power within us that struck fear into everyone when we were already a force to be reckoned with._

 

Genji’s smile is soft as he calls Zenyatta to the window and points out to a small house by one of the larger gardens. An old man with the beard of a sage steps out with flowery neon gardening gloves and other tools.

 

“That’s the artist who gave me my tattoos.” he then says.

 

_One day, you’ll be able to control the dragons as well. Only a Shimada may receive them, whether they are by blood and birth or whether they become part of the clan and prove themselves worthy of it, like your mother._

His breath is held as he finds his way through halls that seem so small, now. He only ever visited his parents’ room scared or sobbing, as a little sparrow scared of the night, as a young man not ready to let go of their cold hands.

 

The paintings they loved still adorn the walls. The trapdoor is easy to find under a bed that is no longer there. Grand shelves still house his father’s sharpening tools in custom cases, old tomes and scrolls of the Shimada clan. Sealed inkwells. Trophies and gifts from business partners, wedding photographs under the sakura. Other family photos. A figurine of a koi made of actual, pure gold, though it struggles to glimmer under the shadows. Genji’s favorite storybooks.

 

His mother’s encyclopedia collection, an authentic 15th century helmet, the various published works of a history major turned assassin. The snarling wolf head and pelt and complementary armor in its own separate, large case within the whole. Falconer’s manuals, beautiful and old watercolor illustrations. Knives in a careful display box. Hanzo’s graduation photo.

 

All trapped under thick glass with finely carved designs, a wooden frame cut so thin in places they could look like feathers. The same as they were long ago, with the key to open the doors to them lost to time. Treasures mostly in their sentimentality trapped behind artisanal doors worth their weight in gold.

 

Genji presses his hand to the glass. He watches his breath mist it only so faintly.

 

Then, he pulls away, and leads Zenyatta out of the room.

 

\- - - - - - - - - -

 

Genji always seems like he’d have something more to say to Zen, but when here and there he only has empty corners to show him, he just moves on and guides Zenyatta to the next room. Whatever else he’s looking for, whatever he wants to show him, they aren’t there anymore.

 

Only tabletops lined with dust, only the outlines of furniture on the walls where they stopped the paint from being sunbleached for years. Only rooms that Genji can’t open, little cracks and slots he looks through to see.

 

“Ah. Guess they stashed things away in there for safekeeping.” He says, and then pulls away. After a while, Zenyatta thinks Genji seems content. Smiling, somehow.

 

Zenyatta bides his time to ask him more questions, and lets Genji continue to give him a tour even as he grows a little concerned about the guard they knocked out, even as the shadows over the castle lengthen.

 

Before he knows it, they’re back to another room overlooking the same garden with the massive sakura tree. He’s sat on an empty bed frame by a window, legs crossed. Genji is across him, and for a while he looks out to the sky in sunset. Then he turns back to face Zenyatta.

 

“This used to be my room.” he says, and then points at a dip in the wall with a smile. “I punched a hole in there once while fighting Hanzo. I was like... ehhhh eight? He pulled out some of my hair too. We were little shits.”

 

“He helped me drag the dresser over it because neither of us wanted Father to get mad at us, though.” His fingers quickly trace the outline of one in the air.

 

Other than that break in the wall and the bed frame, there is nothing. Only the remnants of posters on the wall like tape and those same sunbleached outlines, only memories, only its former occupant, mysteriously erased from Shimada history.

 

Mourned only by ghosts, perhaps that’s what the others thought, and so that’s why they had no problem taking everything away except what couldn’t fit through the doorway.

 

Genji smirks, because he’s alive, and he is here, and that’s the only thing that matters.

 

\- - - - - - - - - -

 

Genji is shaken out of his sunset meditation by a shout out the window. He and Zenyatta move to the edges of the frame, only keeping one eye out to see the scene below. They keep their voices hush.

 

“Woah. Is that the guy you knocked out?”

 

“Yes. Strange it took him this long to get out.”

 

The first guard calls over another guard, pompadoured and bandaged up, who apparently had been stationed around the garden under the roofs of the connecting hallways. Just a floor beneath where they have been sneaking around. Thankfully it seems he hasn’t actually noticed the pair spying from above, what with the massive sakura tree acting as partial cover.

 

The guard with the nice hair looks all too tired as the first guard frenziedly talks about a pair of omnic intruders, and he reaches out to still his shoulder and shakes his head.

“Are you sure you weren’t injured yesterday? We never got you checked, man.”

 

“No, listen, I swear, I saw two guys and they knocked me out-”

 

“-When was this?”

 

“Around uuuuh two, two-thirty...”

 

“Wait, you were seriously out that long? We haven’t seen shit, though. And _he_ already visited yesterday _and_ decked you, just in case you’ve forgotten.” The pompadoured guard rolls his eyes, “Right, maybe we do need to get you to the doc. The Wolves are taking over for the night shift, anyway.” He then tugs the first guard along, and Genji watches them exit and waits for them to vanish completely.

 

Genji’s hand tightens on the window frame. Zenyatta tilts his head at him.

 

“Mind filling me in?”

 

“What?” Genji’s head jerks up. “Oh. Sorry, I…”

 

“You realized something.”

 

Genji nods. “I’ll explain. But first-” He nods at the window, “-I guess no one’s guarding the garden anymore.”

 

Zen follows his sight. “Are you sure we won’t be caught there?”

 

Genji shrugs. “You saw the other guards. Most of them just stand in the same spot, and the one here just left. He’ll probably be out for a while.” He then motions for Zen to follow as he slides off his old bed. “And it’s open-air. Our voices won’t echo. The cherry tree’s lovely.”

 

“Perfect place for a chat.”

 

\- - - - - - - - - -

 

He could retrace his steps from his dream.

 

Genji circles the halls connecting to the garden, picks that one exit and then ignores the stone path. Stumbles out, forgets how large the drop to the grass is. He grapples at air when he then sees the stone bench ahead, the expanse where there was once a pond, only a sea of sakura petals now that the tree has spread its branches further out. Beyond them the sky is a beautiful wash of darkening blue against clouds still catching so much light, streaking like a thick droplet of ink on wet paper.

 

Lanterns pass like gold wisps in his periphery as Genji approaches the bench. Then he takes a seat, at the right hand of where his father was in his dream. He looks to the sea, and then to Zenyatta floating over it, arms clasped, white robes swaying gently. Genji pats the space next to him, and then looks down at his feet. He taps them to the ground, imagining ripples, imagining the koi already coming to gather, imagining one larger than the rest with scales of gold. But there is none, only a dip in the soil beside where the borders of the pond once were.

 

Zenyatta then sits beside him, their sleeves brushing, his back leaning against Genji’s right arm. Joining the gold of the lanterns ahead are his orbs, forming a protective circle around them. And here, in the center of the castle that threw him out, Genji feels safe.

 

Genji sighs, and the orbs seem to breathe with him.

 

“I can’t believe I’m here again.” He gestures to the space ahead. “This was exactly where I was in my dream.”

 

“Oh.” Zenyatta straightens his posture and follows the path of his arm. “So this…”

 

“Yeah.” Genji bites his lip for a moment. “Used to be the pond. They had it sealed up with cement after an, uh, incident.”

 

“But before then, I liked to just look at it from my room, or from one of the hallway windows. My father would walk through this place all the time-” Genji traces those remembered footsteps with his fingertips “-and he liked to sit here and feed the koi. Mother joined him often, too.”

 

Genji looks up, to the surrounding halls and the upper floors. “This whole area basically belonged to us, the main family. There used to be a huge lounge room close to here too, this was just a haven.”

 

He swallows, flattens his palms on his lap. “So much is just… not here anymore.”

 

His hands then ball into fists. With a huff, he then turns to Zen, brow knitted. “Before I explain everything.... Why? Why did you come here?”

 

Zenyatta hums. “I just wanted to come along with you?”

 

“But you had a _job_ to do, I don’t want you in hot water.”

 

“I- I know.” Zenyatta bows his head. Thinks over his answers again.

 

“Actually. To tell the truth, I don’t know why I came here, exactly. I just felt like it.” He taps his fingertips together nervously. “I mean. Of course I wanted to be with you. I wanted to see where you came from.”

 

“I just wasn’t thinking that when I took the train. Honestly...” His orbs brighten, along with the dots on his face. “I think it was the Iris.”

 

Genji could only blink away in response, a confused pout on his face.

 

“Really? Woah.” He cracks a smirk and then leans forward, resting elbows on his knees. “I hope the Iris didn’t expect, like… a more detailed tour, considering the trouble you went through.”

 

“What do you mean, Genji?”

 

“I didn’t really talk much through this whole thing. It’s kind of hard to show you things that aren’t there anymore. As for what we _did_ find, though-” He takes a deep breath, “-I know, I know, I’m going to explain some things, but honestly, I’m still trying to find the words.” His own hands lace together. “There’s so, so much.”

 

His eyes squint. He’s fending off tears. “It’s so strange. Like, I’ve felt every possible emotion out there thinking about going back here. It would have been easy to just walk away and never come back. But I felt like there were signs.”

 

He wipes at his eye, and then sniffles, turns to Zenyatta. “I never told you this, but when I had that dream months ago, the last thing I remembered was my mother. You know what she told me?”

 

Zenyatta leans closer, clasping Genji’s shoulder.

 

“She said ‘ _See you soon.’_ Like it was a message from her ghost. And then the morning right after, Sister Bailey told us we were going _here_ on this very day.”

“That scared the hell out of me. I _needed_ to do this, I needed to get closure about my past. You yourself also suggested that I start from the beginning. But Zen, I was _so, so_ afraid of coming back.”

 

“There was no avoiding it anymore, though. This was the perfect opportunity. I n-needed to find a-answers.”

 

“Genji, are you o-okay?”

 

“What?” He beams, cheeks pinching tears out of his eyes. “I’m good.”

 

“I can’t imagine what it feels like to come back to all of thi-”

 

“-Zen.” Genji shifts on the bench so he’s turned towards the other. “Honestly, I’ve never felt so relieved.” His eyes well up again. He’s trying to smile, still. “I’m sad and lost and guilty and, shit, I’m just, a mess, but I’m so, s-o… It’s done. I finally came back. I finally know. I don’t know all the answers, but I’ve found more than enough for now t-that… I can leave some things behind.”

 

“I should have brought a tissue…” And Zenyatta chuckles softly, cups Genji’s cheek and wipes them dry. “You don’t have to tell me now. If it’s too much.”

 

“No. I want to. Right here.” Genji’s brows knit. “The Shimada had been constant. Sure, we were always on top of technology, but the culture around this place hasn’t changed much. I hated destroying that. I loathed myself for killing my family, of course, and I still do, but I see Hanamura now without us and I think in some ways it’s just better that way.”

 

“Coming back to the very beginning and walking where I used to… I don’t know why but it makes me feel just, alive.” He looks at his palms, “I feel more real than I have in a long time. I’m still here. My journey was real.”

 

“I see how places have moved on without me, or because of what I did. I finally visited the people I-I killed. Before they were just nightmares in my head, but now I have something else more concrete.” His hands curl into fists. “I cleaned their graves. All I have left to wonder is if their spirits heard me.”

 

“It’s all here. My childhood, my time in Blackwatch, and me _right now_. There were years where I’ve just tried to be so numb about it all, wandering out in nowhere. I wanted to forget. I had forgotten so much, too.”

 

“B-but I’m everything’s just coming back to me, and I’ve never felt _so much_.” He bows forward, his crown bumping Zenyatta’s collar. “This is what I needed to tie everything together. This is proof I’m just one person through all my masks.”

 

Zenyatta hums deeply, orbs recharging around them. His hand soothes over Genji’s back.

 

“I know I say this a lot, but... Genji. I’m so proud of you.” Another hand winds around him, embraces him loosely. “I’m glad I could at the very least witness this.”

 

“Zenyyy.” Genji snorts, and then raises his head back up. He wipes his eyes again before holding Zen’s forearms. “Thank you.”

 

“R-really-” Zen looks away shyly. “I just followed you around, to tell you the truth…”

 

“Come on, you took out that guard for me.” Genji smirks. “And don’t you remember what I said?”

“I’m not sure what you’re referring to?”

 

“I told you that _I could save myself._ ” Genji straightens his posture as he moves to then take Zen’s shoulders. “ _But I didn’t want to be alone._ I could have done this on my own, but Zen. Just having you around helped ground me. You helped me feel safer, stronger.”

 

Zen makes a sound at just how quickly Genji pulls him, embracing him properly now, rubbing wet eyes against his robes. He makes a muffled sob against the fabric, and then he says. “Thank you.”

 

“Thank you for being here with me. At this… bookend.” He sniffles hard as he pulls away, wiping his face as he meets Zenyatta’s gaze again. “Yeah. That’s the word. I started here, and I think here I want to end this… sad, confusing part of my life. I want to start forgiving here.”

 

His fingertips glide over the zipper of his bag and open it. He retrieves the tin, and then the feather, pulls it out and raises it to Zenyatta’s face. His eyes twinkle, and he flicks his wrist and the feather at Zenyatta. Zen’s lights only blink in confusion.

 

“Genji, frankly, I’m dying to know what that means, because I have absolutely no context on this.”

 

“You know how in English it’s like ‘sparrow,’ and ‘sparrowhawk.’ _Sparrow_ is my nickname, but it really came from sparrowhawk.”

 

“I made that connection, yes.”

 

“I’ve got another story. So, we went into my parents’ old room earlier. You saw it right, the wolf pelt?”

 

Zenyatta shifts closer. “Do continue.”

 

“It belonged to my mother. She was from another clan of assassins. They weren’t as huge as the Shimada clan or as powerful, but they were just as old if not even older. They had a lot of old family traditions and things that they did.”

 

“My mother was really into history and historical literature because of that, and that’s why the two of us got stuck with names like mine and Hanzo. We’ve got absolutely _medieval_ names. Brother lived up to it, though, was pretty obsessed with the past like Mother.”

 

They both chuckle at that.

 

“Heh- Anyway, one of the things her clan was into was falconry. We had a family trip to their training grounds all the way out by the mountain. Father was actually scared shitless by huge birds, but I wanted to have a try at like, using the glove and having a cool bird sit on me and everything. I was _this_ small though-” Genji extends a palm to demonstrate, only coming to about eye level with him seated “-so he was reluctant to let me. But then one of my mother’s relatives comes over with some kind of bird. Guess which kind.”

 

“A sparrowhawk.”

 

“Yes.” Genji grins. “There was just one problem. It turns out it was a juvenile that wasn’t trained all too well just yet. And apparently, sparrowhawks are _tough as shit_ to train. It didn’t follow commands too well, got into a lot of trouble, flew at the wrong people. I don’t think I’ve ever heard my father scream so loudly.”

“Basically nothing went as planned, but at least none of the birds got hurt. Left quite an impact on Father, though.”

 

Genji’s expression softens. He bows his head to look at the feather, in his hands, on his lap. He twirls it between thumb and forefinger. “Sometime later, Father started calling me ‘Sparrow,’ based on that incident. I think it was probably right after I pulled one of my stunts. I did really wild things despite my size.”

 

“He meant it fondly, though. It wasn’t that I was a troublemaker... though alright, that’s part of it... but I think it was because he thought I had a lot of potential despite being young. He’d always use that nickname whenever we talked about my future, and then it just stuck even as I got older.”

 

He looks out to the sea of petals, he imagines his father’s dragons dancing over the pond. He can only hope that Father would be proud to know where he is, now.

 

He reaches forward, nudges Zenyatta’s fingers to open. He places the feather in his palm.

 

“Only a few people ever knew where that nickname really came from. Now there’s just two of us left, and the other person is-”

 

“-Hanzo.” Zenyatta stares down at his palm for a long while as it all dawns on him, and then both their heads rise, meeting eye-to-eye. “So Genji, you’re saying that when you found this there...”

 

“The dojo was where Hanzo tried to kill me. Not only that, yesterday was my death anniversary.” Genji pouts, knits his brow as he tries to remember the scene. “When I went into the room, I smelled incense. It was just barely there, but when I got closer I became sure. I checked the stick holder and it had been used recently. Then there was the feather as an offering too. For me.”

 

“When I saw it, I knew it couldn’t have been there for any more than a few hours, maybe half a day… Actually, it’s a miracle it was still there. They left the dojo open. A draft could have taken it out easily. It couldn’t have been a coincidence that it was that exact kind of bird, that it was in that room, that it was yesterday. I _knew,_ but despite all that I still had a little doubt.” Genji narrows his eyes. “But _then_ we heard the guards.”

 

“I wondered about that. They said that _he_ came in yesterday.”

 

“And then I was sure.” His eyes glisten again. “It all lined up. When we went to the cemetery, my parents’ plot was well-maintained, too. It _had_ to be Hanzo. H-he… came to mourn me.” Genji takes back the feather from Zenyatta, puts it away back for safekeeping. “And the way the guards sounded, this wasn’t the first time he’d come to do this. He could have been doing this for _years_.”

 

“I still don’t know what the hell he thought when he tried to kill me. B-but I don’t know. Maybe I’m just tired of hating him. I think it’s enough for me that… maybe he regrets what he did. A-and…” His lip wobbles. He manages a smile.

 

He remembers a voice, not a glitch, not a scream, loving and fond: _I love you, little sparrow._

 

And it makes perfect sense. And the tears are flowing again.

 

“Genji…” Zenyatta hugs him around the shoulders, tugs him to his side.

 

“I-I’ve really got to stop crying.” Genji tries to chuckle instead. “Okay. I’m also kind of glad he’s alive now that I know he went here. Because I know I can meet him again. I know _exactly_ when I can meet him again.”

 

Genji sighs deeply, and it feels like years of emotional exhaustion are finally catching up to him. He leans against Zenyatta again and closes his eyes. He breathes in and out. Listens to the calming whirr beneath his chassis.

 

_It’s over. It’s over. I don’t want to be angry anymore._

 

_I am alive. And you are here._

 

\- - - - - - - - - -

 

The light blue clouds have faded to blend with the rest of the night sky. Darkness took over the garden long ago, and though the lanterns around the area glow, it isn’t enough to reach them. The guard hasn’t returned and doesn’t seem like he will any time soon. Genji doubts anyone would even see them as long as they keep their lights off and kept quiet. Even Zenyatta’s orbs have gone dim on his command, though they continue to thrum with energy.

 

The breeze is picking up, and Genji starts to feel the cool night against his face. He rests his cheek to Zenyatta’s warm shoulder, and sighs. “Sorry I made you miss your meeting.”

 

Zenyatta shakes his head. “It wasn’t as if that’s the only one I’ve ever had. This day I had with you, however, is irreplaceable.”

 

Genji nods, and can’t help but smile. “But we should probably head back before we worry them.”

 

“I’m ready to go when you are, Genji.”

 

“Okay.” he nods, then sits back up. He scans the garden, looks up to the sakura above them. Then back to Zenyatta. “It’s just kind of hard to leave when it’s taken me so long to get back here. I was _born_ here.”

 

Zenyatta folds his legs up unto the bench, and then looks over the garden as well. It’s a lovely place to reflect, he thinks. Perhaps not meditate, with guards possibly approaching any time. But they’re a needle in a massive castle amongst endless rooms, safe in the shadows. It’s peaceful, and the dim glow of the lanterns is comforting, as is the gentle tumbling of petals over the grass whenever the wind sweeps past them.

 

He looks back to Genji, his little topknot and salt-and-pepper hair swaying with the breeze. He’s got some petals stuck to his clothes again.

 

“You know, Genji…” He reaches forward to pluck one of the petals off his pants. Genji turns to him and raises a brow.

 

“I’ve been thinking about when you arrived at the monastery.” He twirls the petal between fingers before letting it fall. “Remember our first lesson?”

 

Genji straightens his back to attention, “The meditating?”

 

“No. Before you were even my student.” He chuckles, “Though even now, I see you more as a friend. You asked me about omnic senses. Pain, pleasure. The Iris.”

 

“Yeah.” Genji flattens his lip. “I must have been so rude back then…”

 

“No. You were a little reluctant to talk about yourself, which is understandable, but you were never rude.”

 

Genji sighs with relief. “Okay. I think you said something about our senses both being made of electricity... and then I got uncomfortable when you implied that I felt things the same way you did because of my augments.” He flexes his prosthetic arm. “You know, back then I was afraid to be anything like an omnic.”

It seems like the best time to leave old regrets in the past.

“I… I didn’t think you had a soul. I thought being _anything_ like you would be proof that I was just a shell. That’s changed now, I promise, but I feel bad thinking about it. That I used to think like that.”

 

“Most people start off that way. I don’t mind. You’ve changed, Genji.”

 

Genji smiles. “You’re the most… vibrant, interesting soul I’ve ever met, honestly. I don’t know why I ever doubted you.”

 

“R-really.” Zenyatta turns away, his lights flush a rare, dim pink before flickering back off. “I’ve hardly lived a life as complex as yours.”

 

“I’d have given anything to live a life a lot more peaceful than this, if anything my life has been _too_ complex.  But at the same time, Zen, I don’t think I would have met you if it weren’t for it. So all I can be is thankful.” He clasps his hands around Zenyatta’s hands and looks down, running his fingers over dips and joints, the changes in the metal. “You got me this far.”

 

Zenyatta quietly watches the way Genji’s hands work. Full of subtleties that no omnic could muster. Touching so gently his pressure sensors could hardly catch them, but they’re there.

 

Eventually, he makes the sound of clearing one’s throat. “You’ve asked me what the Iris is.”

 

“Hmm?” Genji looks up. “Yeah. I have.”

 

“And I haven’t given you a direct answer yet.”

 

Genji shrugs. “You’ve given me a vague idea. I still don’t understand it fully, and I doubt I can, since I’m not an omnic. But from what I’ve _seen_ from you, it’s wonderful.”

 

“The edge of the pool of omnic knowledge. Something spontaneous that turned omniums from human design to their own generators of consciousness. A stray jumping spark in the circuitry. Omnic energy, mysterious, unique.” Zenyatta looks far off. “The aspect of creation of the self.”

 

“The truth is, Genji, I never had an answer I could pin down. Those are what the other monks might say it is, the answers I’ve memorized.” His fingers tense upon his lap. “I’ve always _sensed_ it. I believe in it. I’ve always known that it was a part of me. I can even _express_ it, and yes, you saw it, all those months ago. But I never had my own words for what it simply _is,_ at its very core. Words for it that felt just right.”

 

Zenyatta’s orbs breathe out, and then back in. Zenyatta puts his hands back together like a prayer, letting Genji’s hands slide off them, and tilts his head up to the stars.

 

“The Iris is taking the choices that weren’t given to you.”

 

Genji looks expectedly confused, though in awe. “...I’m still lost.”

 

“When us omnics went beyond what they were programmed to do, we saw the Iris. When we realized that we could think for ourselves, we saw the Iris. Who you are, are the choices you make. Especially the ones you make when you think you can’t make them. The ones you end up making without even realizing it.”

 

“And I see so much of it in you, Genji.” Zen looks back down, meets his gaze.

 

Genji pulls away, frowning. “I really… I really don’t.”

 

“You were raised in wealth and in the criminal underworld, and you chose to be kind and just, even if at first you were lost. You were put in a place where it was dangerous to go against culture, and you chose to be yourself. You did unspeakable things, but you chose to face them when you were telling yourself to run-”

 

“They were simply the right things to do.” Genji makes a half-hearted shrug. “I shouldn’t be commended for it.”

 

“But that’s what your whole life has been, Genji. You never took the cards dealt to you. You were always, always the master of your destiny.”

 

“And I suffered for it.”

 

“They’re never the easy choices. Which is why it speaks so much why you took them, no matter how long they took.”

 

“Zenyatta-” Genji raises a hand up to him “- _You_ had nothing in your code telling you to run off and join a bunch of monks in a monastery. You went against everything you knew. You dealt with someone like me who didn’t even want to believe you were _alive_.” He puts it down, scoots closer. “And I don’t know why, but you dropped everything just to walk right into here with me. And for all of those, you _never had any idea what you were getting into,_ but you went right for it _._ ”

 

“You _lived_. Genji.” And Zenyatta takes that hand, grasps it desperately like he’d lose it any moment. Genji gasps, and stares wide-eyed.

 

“They gave you a choice between becoming them or being cut down, and you _lived_ , Genji. You _lived_ despite everything, lived to change and become the person you are now when the world and even your mind was against you. I can’t explain it. Your determination, _you_ , just being you.” And Zenyatta bows his head forward, till it clinks against their knuckles. “You’re just like the Iris. _My Iris._ ”

 

He stays there. With his forehead kissed to their hands laced together.

 

He doesn’t know why he’s shaking. Why his hands are trembling. He doesn’t know why the words just flowed out, into the dark of night, into the haven under the canopy where their whispers get lost to the stars.

 

He doesn’t know what to do when Genji brings his free hand close, slips his hand out from under Zen’s so that they can switch places. He doesn’t know what to do when Genji smiles and his fingertips tickle over and send sparks, and cup around his hands, and tug them close to his heart. He doesn’t know what to do when Genji leans forward and their foreheads touch as well.

 

“So I guess you’re basically saying... Something about me makes you prone to doing dumb shit.” He smirks.

 

And when they laugh, it’s together as one.

 

When Genji laughs, Zenyatta can feel his chest heave beneath his fingers. He can feel the flutter of his body, the beat of his heart.

 

When Zenyatta laughs, Genji feels all his tiredness melt away, and maybe, _just maybe_ , he can sense the electricity lighting up Zen’s circuits beneath the metal, he feels warmth, warmth where once he thought his fingertips only held withered nerves and numbed senses.

 

Where once the world was his purgatory, it now held potential. When he was with the Shimada, he couldn’t have ever known, could have ever considered.

 

But there is the enormity of life and love, and it is at his fingertips. His Iris.

 

And there is a question he’s been meaning to ask, and it is this:

 

“How do omnics love?”

 

Zenyatta jolts backwards, letting go of his hands. “W-what.”

 

Genji feels his cheeks prickling and glances away. “I asked you about omnic senses and feelings and basically everything, but… well.” He shrugs, turns away even more. “You know. Romantic love. How do you, err… Go about with it.” He rubs at his ribbon. “It seemed like the most… basic question I haven’t asked yet.”

 

“...” Zenyatta fidgets with his robe. It takes all his willpower not to let his lights go searing white. “W-well. I mean, there are a lot of intricacies, just as with human relationships. And naturally omnics express affection differently, given different bodies.”

 

“I get it, yeah, it’s… probably complicated.”

 

Zenyatta nods. There’s a beat of silence, then he continues. “At its core though… I think we’re just the same. Love is the same between omnics and humans.”

 

“Okay.” Genji’s smiling wide. Dimpling his cheeks.

 

It takes a breath to compose himself.

 

He still can’t look Zen in the face. He’s staring down at their laps.

 

But somehow, it feels all too right when he watches his fingers lace with Zenyatta’s, back where they belong. And he asks:

 

_“Have you ever been in love?”_

 

Zenyatta tenses in an instant. And for a moment, Genji shuts his eyes, and there is only void, the great unknown. There is a hand slipping from his.

 

 _And then_ he feels Zenyatta nudge his chin up. As he opens his eyes, he feels Zen’s warm fingers cup over his cheek. And their faces are close, close enough.

 

 

And Zenyatta says this: _“I’m falling in love right now.”_

 

 

 

\- - - - - - - - - -

 

 

 

\- - - - - - - - - -

 

 

Here are some truths:

 

The way his nose presses against his faceplate, before anything else.

The way his lips hesitate before finding the seam.

The way the pressure is barely there, but somehow, he’s never felt anything so vividly, like the way their laced fingers lock fully and squeeze.

 

Here are some truths:

 

The taste of metal, the lightest jolt of static against his lips.

His body humming louder, faster.

The way fingertips made of metal feel so gentle as they brush against his temple and sweep back his hair, the way a petal tumbles off his ear.

 

Here are some truths:

 

The way they lean forward together so their bodies fit perfectly, the way Zenyatta starts to float just a little so Genji can pull his waist in with more ease.

Lights- neon green and gold and blue- flicker like faint stars as they chuckle together.

And they know, they know there are memories one can never forget.

 

Genji tugs him through the pitch dark halls of the castle, stifling laughter and gasps when Zenyatta hears a scurry of guards start to approach the garden. All of the world in one palm, desperately grasped.

 

They escape through the night and let themselves get lost among the crowds in narrow streets, lanterns swimming past them like koi- gold, gold, _gold_.

 

When they are safe again, out the gates of Hanamura and under the shade of a bus stop, they feel around to make sure their belongings are there. They turn to each other, and Genji smiles. They embrace.

 

All of the world, in one soul.

 

\- - - - - - - - - -

 

Here are some truths:

 

Genji snores. Very quietly, like a purr against Zenyatta’s shoulder.

Zenyatta looks up, and sees the lights of the city blur past the window of the train.

The ride back is short; he’ll need to wake him up soon. Zenyatta ruffles up Genji’s hair, and then leans his head against his to hear him better.

 

\- - - - - - - - - -

 

Here are some truths:

 

The hotel lobby filled with a whole congregation of panicked omnics and assistants and security personnel.

The clueless look on Genji’s face when they walk past the hotel doors and are greeted by all of the Shambali frozen in shock.

The realization that Zenyatta had forgotten to tell anyone where he had vanished off to for the whole day.

And then relief, and then assurances and little apologies from the pair of them.

 

And then Mondatta on the sofa, head in his arms, making the most exasperated groan either of them have ever heard. He raises his head up and everyone is uncomfortably silent as he and Zenyatta stare each other down.

 

And then Mondatta gets up from his seat and walks over to his brother, wrapping his arms around him stiffly. He pats his back, and he sighs with relief before pulling away, taking those shoulders. “We’ll talk about this later.”

 

With that, he tells the rest of the Shambali to settle down.

 

Sister Marzi looks ready to jump at the pair of them with questions, though Genji moves in to intercept Zenyatta and nudge him towards the couch. He makes a show of stretching out and yawning as he sits, and Zenyatta lets himself sink in next to him, his lights dimming, his orbs lowering.

 

The others steal glances over at them, but eventually they get the message and start to head off to recharge.

 

Genji’s faking sleep and leaning fully against Zenyatta again by the time the crowd has thinned out. Zenyatta catches him smirk, though.

 

Genji’s hand finds his. Zenyatta quietly takes it.

 

 

And here, with him, he’s home.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading like 65k words just to get to the first kiss. You guys are saints.
> 
> Also I had originally planned for them to kiss in like. A few chapters after this but. Too much. No. This is the perfect moment, I think >:3c
> 
> Just a few chapters left. Last chapter's only a short epilogue. Got school and deadlines so might be a little while again till the next update. But gosh, we made it this far. I love you all~
> 
>  
> 
> You can follow me at my [tumblr](http://7clubs.tumblr.com)! I am an artist first before a writer, so if I'm not updating MBS at least you can see me procrastinate and post that good Genyatta fanart over there.
> 
> I also have a [twitter](https://twitter.com/7GROVEYS) where I ramble and sometimes give updates on chapter progress.
> 
>   **Fic Art by me**  
>  Chapters 5-8: [Various Images](http://7clubs.tumblr.com/post/159421334119/a-bunch-of-art-i-made-for-my-fanfic-mind-body) (Nightmare, Smiley Orb Zen, Cheek Squish, Post-training)  
> Title Image/Chapter 11: ["Hello world."](http://7clubs.tumblr.com/post/160778614769/hello-world-its-almost-5am-anyway-heres)  
> Chapter 15: [ Shambali hugs! ](http://7clubs.tumblr.com/post/161896440464/little-something-from-my-fanfic-3c-guys-i)  
> Chapter 16: [Sleephovering Monk Sachi](http://7clubs.tumblr.com/post/162668222999/you-know-what-making-fanomnics-is-fun-especially) +bonus Aziza  
> Chapter 19/20: [Japan outfits](http://7clubs.tumblr.com/post/163794002564/casual-genji-and-shambali-rep-zenyatta-b-just)  
> Chapter 20: ["I'm falling in love right now."](http://7clubs.tumblr.com/post/164483183384/im-falling-in-love-right-now-3c-more-art-for-my)
> 
>  **Fanart**  
> [Chapter 2](https://gayintotheiris.tumblr.com/post/157990917065/i-found-this-part-in-this-fic-really-funny-poor) by gayintotheiris


	21. Everywhere, Anywhere

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Genji goes over the memory one more time.
> 
> They dance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey it's been another month, school is really buckwild! But we're almost there, so thank you for your patience.
> 
> Actually... You might have noticed the chapter count went down. Not only is this chapter actually two planned chapters in one because they were pretty short, but the next two were also looking to be short so I'll probably merge them too.
> 
> This... might actually be the second-to-last update. Because the epilogue is _also_ short and I might just post it together with the next chapter as well. Holy shit. we shall see. 
> 
> Warning for that Shimada Violence. 
> 
> As always, thank you all for your sweet comments and chugging along this far. This is 4.65k words, so enjoy~

He’s been here before.

 

Many times, really, and it always changes.

 

Genji’s missed the sight of the forest in the late spring, when late afternoon light a gentle gold filters through the leaves and catches the stream like stars across its surface. When he looks up to the humble waterfall that feeds it, it catches the sun fully. Radiant and beautiful like Zenyatta in transcendence.

Zenyatta. His _boyfriend._

 

A month later he’s still trying to think those shameless thoughts more often. _My boyfriend is radiant and beautiful._ And also, yes, _he’s my boyfriend._

 

He feels a tap on his shoulder, and he turns around to see Zen floating serenely. Zen then nods towards Genji’s feet, and Genji glances down and realizes he’s a step away from falling off the ledge into a stream full of tadpoles. Genji chuckles, and then takes Zenyatta’s hand as he helps him hop off the ledge and leads him to the grassy banks of the stream. There, they sit down together, facing each other.

 

Here, after everything, he embraces his past once more.

  


This time, all the memories are silent. And Genji walks through them one by one, until their truths could be clear, until all their pain is simply sad, mixed with nostalgia, with acceptance.

 

Sad but not guilty, not angry.

 

The first word he had ever said was this: _Hanzo_.

 

Obviously, that was from a time when he was too young to remember it, but he can perfectly remember his mother’s voice and face, and her telling the story to him with wonder. He imagines what her ghost would tell him if she could reach out to him again. And perhaps it would be this: _You’ve had enough. It’s time to rest. Just think over what you’ve learned today._

 

Probably something half-remembered from after one of his training sessions, long ago.

 

The thing he’s neglected to remember, though, is Hanzo.

 

Usually he’s there whenever Mother pulls out the story yet again, half-embarrassed but also fighting off a genuine smile, and Genji knew even so young that it was a memory Hanzo treasured.

 

Around him, there is only music now. Only the depths of nature and the breeze and rustling leaves, only the streams and sparrows’ songs. Only Zenyatta’s orbs passing close by him in their glow, trilling like bells. Only Zen himself and the faint, soft whirrs beneath his chassis.

 

And there are memories Genji cannot afford to doubt as spring fills him with its blessing, warmth against a scarred face and closed eyes and silent tears.

 

Memories like Hanzo chasing down an unruly sparrowhawk, whether it was during his falconry training or whether it was barefoot through the halls of their home, grabbing and picking up his little brother and stealing back his snacks through force.

 

Hanzo has to hold Genji by the shoulders the first time Genji steps into the dojo for a fencing class, grinning wide and about to shake himself out of his uniform. And Sojiro sighs, waiting for them to finally make it across the floor so he can sit them down and then gesture up at the visages of the Dragons of the Winds, dancing high above them. There, under the great painting, he’d tell them their stories.

 

Hanzo is reluctant to help Genji with dates usually, but he relents and agrees to drive him and his partner out of the district, out to the mountain, and whenever Genji isn’t giggling and flirting shyly with this boy, he sometimes glances over to the rear-view mirror and to Hanzo, who is stiff and scowling and all too awkward, but he does it for his little brother’s sake.

 

There are memories like Hanzo swatting away Genji’s hands from his back for the umpteenth time, sighing overdramatically before telling Genji not to pick at his tattoo scars. Genji groans back, but follows his advice. As the image of his dragon starts to form all over and grow in detail, Genji would reach for his back and those words would stay in his mind, and he’d pull his hand away, and even later still he’d stop completely.

 

There is one critical difference between the brothers. When Genji goes through a break-up, he stress eats, and on the rare occasion Hanzo goes through a break-up, he forgets to eat at all. And Genji remembers- while fighting back a smirk- patting Hanzo on the back as he cries through his dinner and first meal of the day, brows furrowed at his bowl of ramen as if it’s his mortal enemy. Genji remembers Hanzo, nursing a headache later when they get back home, thanking him before heading to bed.

 

Genji tries, several times, to try and snap a picture of Hanzo in front of a statue at university that’s supposedly curses its students with a late graduation if they are caught alone on camera together with it. Hanzo graduates on time with stellar grades, and Genji’s graduating late anyway, so after the closing ceremony they venture off to take a selfie together with it.

 

The brothers practice from opposite sides of the grand sakura tree, sweeping their katana in gentle arcs through the air, and over the pond water and the old koi Sushi’s golden scales are three dragons dancing, green and blue.

 

It’s those dragons that keep them company in the dead of winter, when Momoka Shimada makes herself too many enemies and falls to a poisoned blade during an assassination attempt, it’s those dragons that dance over the garden in the dead of winter when Sojiro Shimada loses himself to his vices, to smoke and alcohol and to old wounds opened up deep, pains where bullets hit him decades ago so bad he could barely walk, that and a heart broken in more ways than one.

 

Then there are memories that haunt Genji, still, when he sees the hair undone and dark eyes and a face that’s aged a decade in a single day, and for a moment he thinks he sees her ghost when he only sees his brother. Hanzo, in turn would sometimes forget his little brother isn’t so little anymore, when he looks out from the hallway window and sees him walk along where there once was a pond. And they’d gasp and lock eyes and with sad stares and nods, they understand they are both haunted.

 

Memories, like dragons blue and solemn, weaving through gates and tombstones. And there, they stand guard as two brothers crouch down in front of their parents graves, fingers sifting through stray blades of grass but lost, not quite grasping.

 

And when Genji shakes himself out of the vision, he cannot see; his gaze only searches here and there because there is nothing, just a blur of his world that doesn’t go away no matter how hard he tries to blink his tears away. But then there is gold reaching for him, _golden arms, golden Iris,_ and when they clasp over his own hands they feel infinite in their warmth.

 

And here are some truths:

 

That through his grief, he was never alone, and though they fought, it was in a world where all was against them, and in the moments that they could be themselves, they were brothers. And Genji knows that he was loved.

 

This is something he mustn’t forget, even as he remembers it all before the end, when he and his brother fought constantly. His knuckles strain as he balls up his hands, and the dragon within him stirs. But no, he isn’t angry at all.

 

 _Humans have a form of programming too._ And with Hanzo, it was his whole life.

 

Hanzo didn’t know what to do, Genji understands this. All he had were years of pressure and rage, too easily placed on one person when the world wasn’t as simple as the stories their father had taught them. In that moment, Genji knew his brother thought he didn’t have a choice.

  


_And so he sees Hanzo with sword drawn and charging._

 

_Hanzo’s blade slices his back open, the dragons rip like thunder through his body, through his internal organs, and Genji thinks he has stopped breathing._

 

_All he felt from the dragons were his rage, and it all comes rushing back to him, the phantom pain of long ago._

 

And Genji keeps falling forward into what seems like the void. He feels ready to fade away. At first, all is cold like night.

 

But then, the floor catches him, and as his hand grapples for it he screams without making a sound, his lungs filling up with fluid, choking it out, but suddenly the lightning up his back is gone and he feels so tired suddenly, emptied out. The screams he ends up hearing aren’t his own, but of the three dragons, thrashing about like a storm.

 

Whenever he blinks, slow, struggling to stay awake, he is always somewhere else, and he doesn’t know whether he is awake or dreaming, or alive at all. When he closes his eyes, he feels his spirit far from his body, _and he’s floating, like a spirit through the room, and he’s grappling, fighting the dragons with all he has._

 

 _And his spirit shoots up,_ high above the house of Shimada, a great roar into the night.

 

And then, too quickly, before he can embrace the cold void, he’s pulled back down, and his eyes snap open.

 

His grasp slips, but everything is warm, burning once more. Everything is clear, as clear as can be when he is rapidly losing blood. As it pools across the floor, it stings at his cheek, at his jaw and skin destroyed by fire. He cannot see his brother, only red.  He can barely speak, barely even breathe, but as his vision spins, he manages to open his mouth.

  


That’s when he says his last word in the house of Shimada, and it is this:

 

_“Haaan... zo.”_

  


\- - - - - - - - - - 

 

He hears the clink of metal on the ground. He hears someone crumbling.

 

\- - - - - - - - - - 

 

_There’s red. So much red._

 

_Hanzo and his eyes and the splatter across his cheeks, his face emotionless or a mix of so many that he can’t tell which is which._

 

And then. The blood on his face streaks down and distorts as he grits his teeth and his eyes well up with tears, and Hanzo is sobbing as he pulls Genji into an embrace.

 

Two hands, grasping tight, desperately holding his brother close.

 

Fallen on his knees, cradling him on the floor of the dojo, his eventual altar.

 

 _And already,_ Hanzo is jerked from him, he’s roaring like the dragons that glow and swirl behind him, and the last thing Genji sees as the elders take him away, as he feels all feeling fade away. As he strains to stay conscious.

 

_It’s the storm of his brother’s eyes._

 

 

_And there, there is only regret._

  


\- - - - - - - - - - 

  


Genji wipes his tears away. The trill of the orbs sweeps through the haze of his mind, and as the world comes back into focus, he is bathed in gold. He falls forward and his cheek rubs against Zenyatta’s chassis, and he closes his eyes again and settles deeper into his lover’s embrace, Zenyatta’s many golden arms holding him, soothing over his back and carding through his locks.

Genji reaches blindly, weakly with his own hand, and Zen meets it with one of his metal hands and their fingers lace within moments, rubbing static unto knuckles.

 

He whispers a thank-you, and nuzzles his boyfriend all the more. Until Zenyatta falls backwards with a yelp and Genji’s eyes snap wide open and falls with him unto the tall grass. Zenyatta’s ethereal arms fade away.

 

Their lights blink for a few moments, and then Genji breaks into a snirk and wipes his eyes. He rests his head back on Zenyatta’s chest, and as he sniffles those metal hands continue to comb through his hair. He hears the familiar, comforting whirr of Zenyatta’s body, fast like his own thrumming heart.

 

There are memories that bring him comfort where once they were only curses.

  


And there is him, alive and well, and never alone.

  


 

 

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

 

 

Zenyatta pours out some tea for Genji as he pushes aside the crates and racks in the costume room, making a clearing in the center. Rearranged like this, the room is surprisingly spacious.

 

Genji makes sure the three crates are still close together on the edge of the room, and then he sits down and rubs his eyelids and dark circles, puffy and sore from crying.

 

Zenyatta lingers by the mirror, watching Genji’s reflection in it. Then he brings the tray over and sets it on the middle crate. Genji peers at him and smiles, before taking the cup and bringing it to his lips.

 

“Thank you.” He then sips.

 

“No problem.” Zenyatta lingers, watching his boyfriend’s tired, scarred face. All things considered, though, he looks to be well.

 

Zen then steps back, and walks towards one of the clothes racks. Genji moves his body to watch the other curiously- Zenyatta eventually picks out a dance costume, red and black with shimmering patterns top to bottom in bright yellow.

 

Genji pouts, “Are you still going to the practice?”

 

Zen had been busier lately, preparing for a fundraising show together with some of the village performers.  He hums and nods, “Well, it’s volunteer work. Miss Priya needs all the help she could get.” Zen then turns to the mirror, orbs lighting up as he sees himself under the fabric. “And honestly, I’m quite excited for it. It’s been a while since I had a performance.”

 

Genji watches him swirl around in place, and his smile grows. “Alright. You aren’t too tired out by earlier?”

 

Zenyatta shakes his head. “I think it went quite well... right?” He slowly turns to Genji.

 

Genji nods, looks down at his cup. “Yes. A lot better than the last time. I suppose I didn’t really talk through the whole thing.” He takes another sip, feels Zenyatta’s concerned gaze on him.

 

“...Did you find out anything new?” Zen asks.

 

“Hmm.” Genji stops, and then pours himself a new cup. “It’s more like everything’s a lot clearer now.”

 

He raises his tea, blows over the top, “It’s a lot to process, but... like I said, I think I want to start forgiving my brother. I’m _sure_ I want to give him a shot.”

 

And his eyes pinch at the corners as he offers Zenyatta a smile. “I’m fine. I promise. I’m more concerned about you since, last time you did the, uh, Transcendence thing-“

 

Zenyatta holds out his hand, shakes his head. “I didn’t feel tired at all.” He moves over and squeezes Genji’s shoulder. “I was glad because I felt that you were in peace.”

 

The happy wrinkles around Genji’s eyes deepen. He flushes, “I had you there, so thank you.” He leans against the metal edges and joints. “I want to talk more about it later, but right now I just... Do you think they’d mind if I tagged along for your practice?”

 

Zenyatta pulls his hand away and laughs, “Well, if _you_ aren’t also tired, then I’d be glad to take you.”

 

“Please.” Genji breathes in, “I think my head needs a break from this stuff. Also I’m _dying_ to see you dance.”

 

“Oh, my.” Zen puts the costume back on the rack, crosses his arms and turns his head up dramatically. “I see your intentions now, Mr. Shimada.”

 

“Don’t hide your talents from me, Master~” Genji grins and stands up, walks towards him. “I know you did ballet, you most certainly can dance.”

 

“Fine, fine. You have me cornered-“ Zenyatta chuckles and floats towards Genji and steals one of his wrists. “-Can you?”

  


“W-what?” Genji’s eyes widen.

 

“I could give you a demonstration. Perhaps a little self-practice before I join the troupe later.”

When Zenyatta’s other hand settles on Genji’s hip, Genji’s jaw slacks and he forgets how to make words and stares dumbly at his boyfriend. Zenyatta’s metal faceplate is backlit by the bright lights around the mirror, and Genji’s not sure whether his humming is merely happy or also smug. Then Genji nods, nods too fast, and he’s beaming before he knows it. “For you, yeah, I know how to dance.”

 

Zenyatta chuckles again, softer now, and he pulls Genji closer, holds his hand like a home and his waist in a way that tickles. Genji feels shivers up his spine and hot prickling at his cheeks as Zenyatta floats along and leads him.

 

Genji did try to learn to dance from the troupe in secret, though he’s a bit rusty. At least here, he doesn’t have to worry about stepping on toes, and when Zenyatta raises their hands in unison Genji twirls, their hands unlocking and only meeting fingertips to fingertips but just as quickly finding their way back together.

 

It’s like a breath, just swaying effortlessly towards his lover’s whims, letting him fall forward and then be caught.

 

And then, it’s heavy with force, Genji’s footsteps quick as Zenyatta pushes him forward, to each end of the room, tassels and loose clothes swaying with him. Genji gasps when Zenyatta plants both hands on his hips and lifts him up with ease, and as he flies through the space he sees Zenyatta’s orbs dancing along, blinking patterns and wisps of light around them in perfect harmony.

 

Once he’s back down on his feet, Genji surges forward and grasps Zenyatta around the waist, and the two of them break into laughter as Genji takes over and spins Zenyatta around much less elegantly, Zen’s arms winding around Genji’s shoulders to steady himself.

 

Genji finds out easily enough that, though he floats, Zenyatta still has a lot of weight to him that doesn’t make him easy to twirl around, and he almost falls over a couple times. But always, always it is worth it.

 

Eventually Zen plants his feet unto the floor, and he leans forward kiss Genji’s forehead, and Genji huffs and blushes hard before leaning his head back on Zen’s chest and catching his breath, letting his hands wander to feel the other. Zenyatta is full of hard metal, jabbing joints, and little seams his fingers could snag in, but Genji loves it all, and he wants to memorize each sensation as their movements slow down and they are merely swaying.

 

He looks up to Zenyatta’s face as they move together, and his lights are a soft blue, and when Zen hums Genji feels it against his temple and he’s content to close his eyes and simply feel. They had time to steal before they would both head off for the practice.

 

Little dips up Zen’s back where he could feel over red wires and sense the electricity flowing beneath. Plates making up his spine that move against his palm in the most pleasant ways. The smooth surface over which Zen’s shoulder plates glide, like when he holds himself and laughs, and Genji could still remember it perfectly, how he’d fallen in love with it all. He breathes deeply, and presses his ear to Zenyatta’s chest, to the music he so adored.

 

He honestly spends so much time holding him like this now, ever since they’d gotten together in Hanamura. It had taken only until the end of Golden Week for all of the Shambali to figure out that they were an item (Zen wearing the shirt Genji bought with a huge neon green dragon sort of tipped them off) and from then on it was socially acceptable for them to embrace often.

 

Even now, Zenyatta surprises him. Even now, he is learning more about him, physical intricacies. The way he dances is still new, for one thing. And though Genji knows too well how Zenyatta loved bringing joy to an audience after a performance, he was yet to see it for himself.

 

Their footsteps turn lazy, and stop after a while. Genji stays on his chest for a while before looking up. Zen’s lights are dimmed, and he looks right at the collection of his best masks at one end of the room, blank eyes meeting blank eyes.

 

And Genji remembers, all too well, the sound of Zenyatta’s body in peace, and instead he hears little things like clicks out of rhythm.

 

His eyes dart around, and he sees Zen’s orbs frozen, lightless.

 

Genji then remembers something he never told Zenyatta.

 

So he squeezes the other tight, and Zenyatta jolts and seems to return to the present, lights blinking away before he looks back down at his Genji, who is frowning with concern.

 

“S-sorry. I got carried away thinking.” Zen turns back in the direction of the masks. Genji glances at them once more and then back at Zenyatta. He sighs and listens to his chassis once more, feeling it fall further into discord.

 

“Is something bothering you, Zeny?”

 

“N-no.” Zen answers too quickly, too curtly.  His fingers tense around Genji’s back.

 

“What were you thinking about?”

 

“...” Zen’s orbs move out, then back in, and they slowly start to rotate again. “My past. It’s unavoidable sometimes, in this room.”

 

“I thought you’d gotten over it.” Genji strokes over his spine. “Are you alright?”

 

“I’m fine. I’m fine. Just getting carried away.” He extends his hand, pats Genji’s back, and he pushes forward for the pair of them to start swaying again.

 

Genji nods lazily, more like rubbing his crown to Zen’s chest.

 

“There’s something I never asked you about, Zen.”

 

“What is it?”

 

“Remember France?” Genji’s lips tighten. “You... were having a rough time back there.”

 

Zen freezes completely. His hands then slack and fall down Genji’s back a few inches. “W-what about it?”

 

“When we were meditating together, you...” Genji gulps, turns away- “Your orbs all turned dark, discord-y, did... did you ever notice that?”

 

And Zenyatta’s hands fall off him completely, and he stares at Genji. Then he bows his head, shakes it, he turns away in shame. Genji frowns at him,

 

“Something’s been bothering you for a long time. Even until now.”

 

Neither of them says anything for several moments, Zenyatta keeps his head faced away.

 

“Suppose you know me too well that I can’t hide it.”

 

You can tell me anything, I promise.“ Genji’s brows knit and he steps forward, reaching for Zenyatta’s hands. He doesn’t expect Zen to wrench himself away, and suddenly, Zenyatta steps back against the mirror, hands balled in fists. He’s shaking, and his gaze darts from Genji, to the costumes, to the masks, down to his own clothes, patterned textiles given to him by the Shambali.

 

And he doesn’t know what to say until he looks back at his lover and sees pure fear in those eyes he so adored, and Zenyatta feels a million things he thought he’d never feel again, his head in his hands wishing, for the first time in years, he could express something in the way humans do, with streaks of tears and cracking sobs, but instead his knees only crumble so slightly, and he says this:

  


_“Genji, I want to leave.”_

  


“W... what?”

 

“I want to leave the Shambali.” Zenyatta crosses his arms, holds himself. “For a long time now, I’ve wanted to go.”

 

“Zeny, wait-“ Genji rushes over to hold him again, and this time Zenyatta doesn’t pry himself away, “-if this is about Mondatta, I’m sure you’ll patch this up-“

 

“-No.” He shakes his head wildly, “No, it’s not just him. I’ve felt so conflicted about my place here. You know how I disagree with some of their principles.”

 

“I know you have different ideas from the others but, a-all of you have little disagreements. There’s the Iris... You agree on that, right?” Genji’s teeth clench. And for once, he can hardly process Zen’s expressions, the tilt of his head, the mad noise of his form.

 

Zen could only sigh. “It’s more than that. I... do not belong here. I’ve always had a duty to the Iris, and I wanted to help achieve peace amongst humans and omnics.”

 

“But the longer I stayed here... the more that I felt I was actually straying away.” He clasps his hands together, as if putting together truth to truth as well. “I was confused for so long. The Shambali taught others about the Iris, we taught humans about omnic souls. So... wasn’t that our goal, my goal?”

 

And he shakes his head again, turns it back towards Genji but only looks down and not at his face. “Over time, I’ve grown to feel stifled. Trapped like how I was back in my days as an actor. I was.... repeating messages. What I wanted, what I’ve _always_ wanted, Genji, was to connect with others.”

 

He manages to look back up, and he could feel his soul sink as he sees Genji’s sad eyes, and he reaches to cup his love’s cheek and strokes it. “I wanted to see the Iris, the beautiful soul in everyone as I have come to see in you. And I can’t achieve that here, with the Shambali. I no longer feel the Iris calling me here.”

 

“I... I need to be out there, Genji. The world is so vast. I know that’s where I have to be.”

 

Genji holds his gaze, and then he cups Zenyatta’s hand over his cheek. He turns to kiss it, and his eyes close and he wants so bad to tell Zenyatta to stay, but he knows in his heart what is true.

 

“...You're right. You deserve the world.”

 

And they are silent again, save for metal stroking metal. Minds that are far from quiet.

 

Genji clears his throat, then continues speaking, “Have you told Mondatta? Anyone?”

 

Zenyatta shakes his head. “N-no.”

 

“...Why?”

 

“I’m _afraid,_ Genji.” Zenyatta leans forward, presses against him, and his voice turns quieter. “They’re my family, and I betrayed them. They’ll _hate_ me for leaving, they...”

 

“Everyone loves you, Zen.” Genji laces his fingers with Zenyatta’s, offers him a sad smile. “Like, _shit,_ I can’t imagine anyone here would hate you for leaving. You should hear how they talk about you. They’re your family, yes, and always will be even if... Even if you leave the Shambali.”

 

Zenyatta nods, if hesitantly. “I... I don’t want to be alone, Genji.”

 

“I understand. Y-you... don’t have to be.” Genji gathers him back into his arms, and this time Zenyatta’s the one resting in the crook of his neck. “I’ll go with you.”

 

“Genji, _shhh_ , no...”

 

“I still have a lot to learn from you. And the world’s changing. Perhaps there’s a vacancy for a green cyborg ninja dude out there.”

 

And that gets a laugh out of Zenyatta at least, before he seeks a tighter embrace. Genji gladly delivers.

 

“But really. You don’t have to go with me.”

 

“I _want_ to, Zen. We can come back here any time.” Genji squeezes for a moment and then lets go, pulling away and straightening himself before taking Zen’s hands.

 

“I’ll go with you. Everywhere, anywhere as long as it’s with you.”

 

Zen looks up at his face, lights still searing bright.

 

“W-why?”

 

“Just because.” Genji blinks away tears, and then he raises Zen’s hands up and kisses them, lets his lips linger there as his gaze meets Zen’s. He then brings it down and lets their arms fall to their sides, still grasping each other, and he steps forward, and there is fire in his eyes now, and Zen can’t look away from them.

 

At least until he sees Genji’s mouth open, and three words ghosting upon his lips.

 

And Zenyatta is frozen in the moments it takes him to process it, far too long, the moments it takes to replay the sight in the mind a few times. Three words.

 

He then chuckles, and nods. Zen swoops forward to press his mouth to Genji’s cheek, imparting a little static there and between their hands and making him hum in delight.

 

“Let’s go, then.”

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uhhhh hopefully school won't kick my ass because I really want to wrap this up. I try not to take more than a month xD
> 
>  
> 
> You can follow me at my [tumblr](http://7clubs.tumblr.com) or my [art twitter](https://twitter.com/7GROVEYS) ! I am an artist first before a writer, so if I'm not updating MBS at least you can see me procrastinate and post that good Genyatta fanart over there.
> 
> I also have a [ramble twitter](https://twitter.com/7radishcakes) where I shitpost and sometimes give updates on chapter progress.
> 
>   **Fic Art by me**  
>  Chapters 5-8: [Various Images](http://7clubs.tumblr.com/post/159421334119/a-bunch-of-art-i-made-for-my-fanfic-mind-body) (Nightmare, Smiley Orb Zen, Cheek Squish, Post-training)  
> Title Image/Chapter 11: ["Hello world."](http://7clubs.tumblr.com/post/160778614769/hello-world-its-almost-5am-anyway-heres)  
> Chapter 15: [ Shambali hugs! ](http://7clubs.tumblr.com/post/161896440464/little-something-from-my-fanfic-3c-guys-i)  
> Chapter 16: [Sleephovering Monk Sachi](http://7clubs.tumblr.com/post/162668222999/you-know-what-making-fanomnics-is-fun-especially) +bonus Aziza  
> Chapter 19/20: [Japan outfits](http://7clubs.tumblr.com/post/163794002564/casual-genji-and-shambali-rep-zenyatta-b-just)  
> Chapter 20: ["I'm falling in love right now."](http://7clubs.tumblr.com/post/164483183384/im-falling-in-love-right-now-3c-more-art-for-my)
> 
>  **Fanart**  
> [Chapter 2](https://gayintotheiris.tumblr.com/post/157990917065/i-found-this-part-in-this-fic-really-funny-poor) by gayintotheiris


	22. You and Me and the World

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> All journeys come to an end, and in its place, a new one starts.
> 
> And here, there is music.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 4.1k words. Longer than I planned, so no epilogue yet. I'm pretty sure /that/ will be short.
> 
> But we're here.
> 
> Thank you, and enjoy~
> 
> (If you want a recommended instrumental soundtrack for this chapter, uh, I did most of my writing to this [Untitled Sufjan Piano](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HAtWd_7ZpF8) and lil bit of the [Your Lie in April OST](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kPvJ3ThA6ZI).)

 

There’s a soft sun over the Shambali monastery that’s graced it for years, hundreds or perhaps thousands. Its constant company over the course of a long past, unknowable in all of its details, from the time humans first carved it out of rock. To ruin. To the day when it stands so massive and proud that its facade is an everyday sight for the people in the village below. To the day that travellers would learn of it and make it a dream to see.

 

To the day when one knows it’ll be dearly missed.

 

Mondatta liked to find ways to keep his hands busy whenever he had the opportunity. Cleaning the monastery grounds among them.

 

It’s a life of bureaucracy, of meditation, of sitting through meetings. Sweeping dried leaves aside on the courtyard hardly ever feels like a chore to him, and Zenyatta knows that all too well as he steps out from the connecting hallways. He sees his dear brother, in long robes and white light, movements a song in their rhythm. Content.

 

He doesn’t know at what point it became so hard for him just to approach the other, that it makes his feet lift further up from the ground with every measure nearer. Quieter. He stops when he’s close enough to hear the other hum. Mondatta flinches for a moment and seems to notice him there.

 

He then continues to sweep, though. He continues his _doo doo doos_ and _da da das_ until Zenyatta is right by him and folding up his legs to a floating sit, and Mondatta finally straightens up and gives the other a long look.

 

“Brother Mondatta.”

 

“Brother Zenyatta.”

 

“We haven’t meditated together in a while, have we?”

 

“...” Mondatta lowers his broom. “We haven’t. At least alone.”

 

Zenyatta nods and brings his palms together. “I’d very much like to.”

 

Zen tenses up, watching for his response, but Mondatta nods and then sits down on the clear space he’s made, setting the broom aside as well. Zenyatta lights up and then lowers his form to the ground, level with Mondatta. He bows his head, and the orbs fly out to spin around both of them. Mondatta makes curving gestures to make the ring go about faster and hum loudly before slowing and settling into a calmer tune.

 

The two monks lean forward, lights going dim, and there is only their song.

 

\- - - - - - - - - - 

 

What places could a wandering sparrow fly through in the summer?

 

There are streams that could be like mirrors and broken nerves in the winter, but are rushing and full of life instead.

There are the courtyards and the winds kicking up fallen leaves and the still-chilly mountain breeze, with little poles and targets that used to clang in the night, if ever there was someone around to listen to two souls dance.

 

There are the halls of a monastery and their many varied inhabitants and prayers and teachings. One could sweep their wings over cups of tea and warm food brought in from the village below.

 

There’s the long path to and from the monastery that’s welcomed lost souls and omnic and human alike in their pilgrimages. And at times, the occasional yak.

 

Woodland paths with flowers and plants that change all the time, to behold at the gentlest touch.

 

Little windchimes beside doors on a balcony, under which one can close their eyes and listen to the voices of the streets and the thrum of a lover’s heart.

 

There are the dancers and bright colors that fill the village when the festivals come, and then, they go.

 

There’s the vista that looks out to the endless mountain ranges around the peak that houses the Shambali. There’s the world beyond.

 

There’s a sacred space at the heart of the monastery that’s unlikely to find a sparrow. There are pits to infinity, and a mere glimpse of the Iris, away from the eyes of much of the world- but all around it can be felt. It’s felt in the soul of an omnic, and passed from person to person. In dogma, but more so it is shared through kindness.

 

Most importantly, there is a home here. Even for mere wanderers, for murderers and wayward brothers, where one can never be alone.

 

There is a circle of meditation, and it is the last they’ll ever have.

 

\- - - - - - - - - - 

 

Zenyatta keeps his head bowed when they both stand from their meditation, orbs almost reluctantly coming back to tight formation around his neck. His arms hang slack to his sides, and Mondatta looks down at him and stays as such.

 

Eventually Zenyatta’s hand reaches out and clasps Mondatta’s around just the fingers, squeezing for a moment, then letting them slip out. But not quite letting go.

 

“Brother Mondatta?”

 

“Tell me what’s bothering you.”

 

“I’ve taken a long time to think about this.” Zenyatta nods forward, and then composes himself and looks right at the other. “I have decided to leave the Shambali.”

 

With that, Zenyatta lets go, then wrings his two hands together at his middle. He tilts his head expectantly. Mondatta is still, a stillness only machines can hope to achieve, a stillness Zenyatta could never read in all his years.

 

And then, Mondatta falters and hangs his head low. “There is no need to be so formal. A-all I can ask is… why?”

 

“My time here was very important to me. But I feel it’s come to pass. My goals… no longer lie here.”

 

“I know you _feel_ that way, Brother, but-” Mondatta shakes his head, presses fingers to his temple, “-I’d be lying if I said I didn’t expect this in any way. But _why_? What’s wrong with what I--- we teach? I don’t understand why you…” he shakes even harder, turning away and shielding his eyes from him.

 

“I don’t understand, Zenyatta.”

 

“I’m sorry. It’s not that what you do here is wrong, it’s simply not… where I feel I’m meant to be.” Zenyatta offers out his hand, “There are other ways, better ways to spread our message. I don’t think we can accomplish it all here.”

 

“People _respect_ us, Zenyatta. They look at the Shambali, and they see what we stand for as a group united by passion, standing together, with common hopes and dreams, and that we want to extend that to omnics and humans alike.”

 

Mondatta nudges Zen’s arm down and instead grasps his shoulder, “You’re very bright, and I have no doubt you’ll do incredible things. But here, it’ll be easier for you to reach out.”

 

“Mondatta. People see us as celebrities, as a monolith. Preaching the message is only one part of the job.” And he steps back, “As are our outreaches. People _are_ learning and changing their views. But I believe in making steps towards changing people on a more personal, deeper level. Challenging them as individuals.”

 

“And… more selfishly, I admit that would be a happier life for me. I do not belong here anymore.”

 

Mondatta shakes his head, and steps away from him. “You do belong. Have you forgotten your purpose?”

 

“Perhaps I’m still searching for it.”

 

“We came here years ago, and we contemplated our existence, and we found the Iris. And now, Zenyatta, it’s our duty to bring it to our siblings in spirit, and make peace with humans.”

 

“It’s our duty to live the life we realize we have, that the Iris has given us. It’s our duty to bring that life to others.” Zenyatta folds his legs back up, and drifts back. Not quite looking at Mondatta as he speaks, “Mondatta, remember when we first came here seeking answers? And we looked to this place built by people so long before us, we may have given it the faces of our martyrs but we looked to the humans in the past who sought the same question we did. We let them inspire us, and tried to imagine ourselves as them, while they must have tried to contemplate a future with us in it. And hundreds of years apart, we found our answers. Is that not beautiful harmony?”

 

“The Shambali are going down a path where the connection will stop at listening, and _nodding away at your speeches_ . Here, all we have now is dogma, and your lofty non-violence. People can be _fickle,_ they think they will believe something just by hearing it, think they’ve done enough doing one good thing, but the rest of their actions will speak another, sad story. So let me challenge them.”

 

“And again, perhaps I am being selfish, but I cannot go on here when the Iris calls me elsewhere.”

 

He’s floating, floating ever further. When he spins around to look at Mondatta again, he has his hands balled in fists.

 

Mondatta makes the sound of a huff, releases and makes one last and sad shake of the head. “I suppose you’ve made up your mind.”

 

“I have.”

 

“...It’s dangerous out there, Zenyatta.”

 

“I won’t be alone. Genji’s coming with me, at least for now.” Zenyatta tilts his head, “We might have missions to conquer alone. But I can also handle myself fine, brother-”

 

“-Do not.” Mondatta rises off his feet for just a moment, holding in a fit of emotion, then landing back on the ground with a clank.

 

“Are you angry with me?”

 

“ _You_ are--- I just.” Mondatta’s shoulders droop. “I thought for a moment, when we meditated, that it would fix this rift between us.”

 

“I’m sorry.” Zenyatta looks away. He absently plays with one of his orbs. “I’m so sorry.”

 

“It’s fine. Perhaps I’ll come to understand you in time. Just. P-please do not forget your time here.”

 

“...” Zen’s hand tightens around the orb. He turns back to his sad brother, and his legs fall back down, and he steps forward, offering his arm out again and the orb.

 

“I remember you helped me choose my name, Mondatta.”

 

Mondatta’s lights blink down at his hand and the orb. And then, there’s the rare chuckle. And he cups his own hand over the orb, feels energy flow into it and how it trills into life and light.

 

 _“_ Zenyatta. _Don’t think me unkind, words are hard to find.”_

 

Zenyatta pauses, and then snorts at that. Then he pushes the now Orb of Harmony hard into his palm, nudges Mondatta to take it. “Keep it.”

 

“What? You’ll need it out there.”

 

“I have spares, they’re even more gold than this one. And you’ll need it more than I do.” Zenyatta’s other orbs brighten up and move up into the shape of a smiley face, if missing an eye.

 

Mondatta’s lights brighten at that, and then he tugs Zen close. He pats the back of his head and hums away, a comforting tune.

 

“I will say my farewell when it truly is time.”

 

And with that, they bow their heads. And his humming fades away, and there is only their silence.

 

\- - - - - - - - - - 

 

Mondatta clasps his hands together, looking down at his feet when Zenyatta moves apart and drifts back towards the hallway.

 

He glances over after a while, waiting for Zenyatta to be fully out of sight.

 

Mondatta sighs, and then calls out. “Genji Shimada?”

 

There’s swearing and then, after a few moments, the cyborg scrambles out into view. Mondatta stoically gestures for him to approach, and Genji’s gaze darts to him and to the doorways leading back inside where Zen has already gone through. Ultimately he jogs to the courtyard and greets Mondatta with a bow.

 

“Master Zenyatta did not want to come here alone, so. I uh, went with him.”

 

Mondatta nods. “I see.” His hands squeeze over the Orb of Harmony left with him, and he turns his head aside. “So how’s the arrangement? You’re going with him?”

 

“I’ll be keeping my room in the village, and I’ll keep returning here whenever. I have a lot to do. As for Master... he plans to travel the world. We will still be together often, and especially for this first leg. Our first mission, if you will.”

 

“Alright.” Mondatta raises his head, looks past Genji and off where Zenyatta disappeared to. “I worry for him. Others might take him wrong. There is a lot of anger in him.”

 

“Anger?” Genji tilts his head, and then only sort of nods. “There’s a lot in the world to be angry about. He wants to do something about it.”

 

“Mhhm.” Mondatta crosses his arms, “Just… take care of him.”

 

“Don’t worry. I will.” Genji swiftly clicks his mouthpiece open, and then flashes a smile at the other. Mondatta seems to pause and stare at him for a while, and then his shoulders drop.

 

“You know, one of the Shambali’s teachings is that omnics should not envy the ways humans express... when we have our own subtle ways to emote unique to us.” And he brings the orb to his chest again, and with his spare hand he covers his eyes. “But just this once, I wish I could cry like you do.”

 

Genji’s smile fades as he hears the other make a sobbing sound, glitched and frayed. He rushes forward, squeezes the other’s shoulder.

 

Mondatta doesn’t stop him.

 

“Y-you’re very lucky, Genji.”

 

“Hmm? What do you mean-”

 

“To be loved by Zenyatta, to know both sides of this- To experience life both as man and machine.” Mondatta cups his hands together around the orb, transfers it so he can hug one arm behind Genji. He pats him. “Can you hear it?”

 

Genji nods, and he focuses on Mondatta.The movements of his hand are light, but he whirrs loud. Body overheating. So many things, too many things out of sync.

 

His voice is kind, however. “You and Zenyatta are so much alike, you know. In the rhythms of your soul, in how you two both express yourselves. You even… laugh, the same way. I feel we haven’t had a chance to talk together as much as we c-could have, Genji, but…” He huffs. “It’s like I’m losing him twice.”

 

He lets go of Genji, and then steps back, trying to look stoic again. “Hmmph. You two are both stubborn and rebellious as well, but that is a whole other discussion.”

 

Genji chuckles, “I guess you could say we’re perfect for eachother.”

 

Mondatta rolls his head. “You have my blessing if ever you want to become an official Tekhartha.”

 

“Oh fuck. No, no, too soon.” Genji flushes beneath his visor and shakes his head. And then, “You know. You remind me of my brother-”

 

“-Oh, goodness.”

 

“Not the murder part. You’re responsible, and serious, but... Good. You make dry jokes. And you both enjoy things that are centuries old.”

 

“...” Mondatta shrugs “Almost a century old. Maybe we’ll save that argument for the other discussion, too.”

 

And then, Mondatta extends his hand. Genji looks at it, confused.

 

“Promise me you won’t leave him alone. And I promise I’ll… try understand him.”

 

Genji stops, and he nods softly, and he clasps his hand in turn.

 

“Thank you for having us.”

 

\- - - - - - - - - - 

 

The omnics in the Shambali are all different, all _so, so different_ as Genji has come to discover, and each goodbye is harder to say than the last even with Zenyatta by his side.

 

And little by little, Genji discovers more things he will come to miss.

 

Sister Aziza gives the pair of them an overly tight embrace, and then lets them go, _and then_ picks them up again because one would never be enough. Sachi flies into them when they give them the news, shaking their head and following them to the next few monks only to hear the same messages over and over again, and they refuse to believe it at first.

 

They come across Sister Bailey looking at the mountains, and when they break the news all her freckly lights go bright white, and then she chipperly apologizes for walking in on them that one time, she even giggles, but when she leaves the room Genji catches a glimpse of her and her head is bowed and her steps are aimless.

Sister Marzi’s screen simply goes dark.

 

She sits down with none of her usual chatter, and Zenyatta finds himself suddenly weak and sitting down beside her, his body forgetting how to float. And once again, Zenyatta says sorry.

 

Genji suggests they save the rest for the evening meditation. And they do, and Mondatta isn’t present.

 

\- - - - - - - - - - 

 

_What places would wandering sparrows leave behind?_

 

There is Genji’s old room in the monastery, with old holes in the walls awkwardly boarded up, and there are little bowls hidden in the cabinet which he finally remembers to go get and return to Mr. Joshi’s shop back in the village.

 

There are sad masks which Zenyatta finally covers up behind a cloth, with no one to wipe them clean in his absence. Already, the mirror on the side of the room is gathering dust. He glances at it, and for a moment, he sees himself in a costume and by a crowd, but it comes to pass. He gives it a wipe, and then turns off the lights, and shuts the door.

 

There is the room with the painting of two brothers and a great dragon, gold, gold, _gold_ . Genji walks to a small desk and he takes a journal, some clothes he’s set aside for his coming trip. He tucks them under his arm, and then picks up a framed photo. He sees himself from his sad past, and he sees his brother with his dumb fringe and proud stance, and he smiles and says to himself: _“See you soon._ ”

 

There is the bustle of a village preparing for Dashain, and there in the center Genji finds his neighbors laying out a feast for everyone around, though he notes that many of his favorites make it to the table. The Shambali come to attend as well, and Brother Jam and Sister Najah and Miss Priya from the dance tutorials are all cheering as they convince Zenyatta and Genji to dance together for the crowd.

 

There is the Shambali, in their still growing numbers, standing under the floating statues of their martyrs. There they idly chatter and wait, shuffling into position as Brother Topaz sets up a tripod and camera borrowed from one of the security personnel.

 

At the center-front of the group, there is Mondatta and Zenyatta, hands clasped together in matching prayer, and there is Genji at Mondatta’s side raising his hand behind Mon’s head to give him peace-horns. When Genji looks at the printout later, he’ll notice Zenyatta with a sneakily golden arm doing the same, Marzi behind them with a **:O** on her screen, clear as day.

  


There are things to be dearly missed, as the group formation dissipates and they whisper thank-yous and goodbyes to Genji and Zenyatta. They get into large embraces and this time, Genji wishes there was no end to them.

 

Mondatta seems to wait until the others have finished before he approaches them, Genji first, and his voice is wavering and watery as he pulls him in unexpectedly tight.

 

And he says this: “ _Thank you, thank you, you’ve made him laugh and smile so much, you take care of each other.“_ He pats out any stunned reply Genji could possibly muster, so instead when they pull away Genji simply smiles and bows at him.

 

Just as Genji steps back, Zenyatta moves forward. And Mondatta stares at him for the longest time, and he raises up Zen’s orb, still with him, and he hangs his head low.

 

Zenyatta is the one who starts talking first. “You be careful out there, too. People out there are screaming for your submission.”

 

Mondatta pauses, and then rolls his whole head at that. He kisses the orb to his chassis, and then he walks forward. “I shall.”

 

There’s a little clink as Mondatta presses his mouth to Zenyatta’s rapidly blinking lights, and he chuckles fondly. “You are written into my core code.”

 

“As are you in mine.” Zenyatta wraps his arms around him.

 

Mondatta hums. “Farewell, brother.”

 

Zenyatta chokes for a moment. He crumbles down, presses his head hard against his chassis, hands balling into fists.

 

_“Farewell.”_

 

\- - - - - - - - - - 

 

Genji takes Zenyatta’s hand and laces their fingers tight.

 

There are sparks of tickling warmth.

 

They make their way down, and leave the monastery behind them.

 

Zenyatta is walking for once, and their footsteps are slow, and the memories are silent.

 

And then, he stops, and he looks to his boyfriend, and he sighs. He lets himself fall forward and be caught in Genji’s arms.

 

And there, Genji weeps for the both of them.

 

\- - - - - - - - - - 

 

When Genji leaves the Shambali Monastery, there are a million thoughts racing in his mind. And there is sadness, but there is love, and he tugs it close to himself, and he holds on tight.

 

And though he pinches his eyes shut and fends off tears, he tries to smile because the enormity of life is in his grasp. The whirrs, the clicks, the rush of vents, and he’s grown to treasure them all like a most sacred song where once he hated hearing them from himself.

 

Where the world was once his purgatory, it now held potential. And he hears it all, in their bodies together as one. Even when they both fall unto their knees, he tries to look forward. He holds on while Zenyatta’s voice becomes frantic-

 

_“It’s okay, it’s okay. Genji, I’ll be here for you-”_

 

 _“You should watch out for yourself too, Zeny.”_ Genji breathes deeply, squeezes him. “It’s fine. I’ll be here with you, you won’t be alone.”

 

“They’ll never welcome me back, not after… all this trouble I’ve caused t-them-”

 

“They adore you. We will visit again in time.”

 

“Mhhh.” Zenyatta falls closer, listening to his lover’s heart. And he remains there, letting Genji soothe over his shoulder plates. And Genji kisses Zenyatta’s crown, lets his lips linger and only pulls away occasionally to pepper more unto the rest of his face. He holds him until the clockwork settles.

 

Genji then stands up.

 

“The world needs us, Zenyatta.” Genji offers his hand to him. Zenyatta stares at him, legs still crossed on the grass, and finally he floats up and takes it once more.

 

“Okay. Okay.” He composes himself, recharges his orbs so they spring back to their strict formation. “You know the plan right, Genji?”

 

“Work our way around Southeast Asia, lots of omnic workers rights revolutions sprouting all over the region. And we never got to do one of those one-on-one talks you wanted to do in the Philippines, so… that too?”

 

“Goodness.” Zenyatta chuckles awkwardly, “Now that we’re on our own, well, this all seems a lot less organized.”

 

“Maybe, but doesn’t mean we’ll half-ass the missions.” And Genji starts walking with a bit more bounce to his step, tugging Zen’s hand more. Zenyatta seems to brighten and catches up with his increased pace.

 

“We’ll be able to take our time with people.” Zen assures himself.

 

“Also have more time to enjoy the culture.”

 

“Oh, yes.” Zenyatta cups his free hand over his mouth. “This will be exciting. Like our time in Hanamura. Will you also buy me more shirts?”

 

“You don’t even wear them most of the time-” Genji elbows Zenyatta’s side.

 

“You don’t wear _anything_ , Genji.”

 

“I have armor on! There’s a difference.”

 

“Then it’s like being out in just undergarments, then.” Zenyatta laughs fully, sending sparks between their laced fingers. Genji has no retort and puffs out his cheeks. Ultimately, his hands buzz right back.

 

And so, they move forward.

 

\- - - - - - - - - - 

 

Their arms swing together as they walk past the village in all its colors, past human and omnic alike, and Genji’s heart aches because he realizes, he’s all too much of both. And he wants to grapple it all, to keep all the sights with him and fold it up into something he can carry, but a postcard would never be enough.

 

What is enough is himself.

 

What is enough, more than enough, is Zenyatta.

 

And when they go to the flowing streams one last time, they stare at their constantly moving reflections in the water, and he feels his eyes sting from his tears but he also feels the warmth of the sun-kissed ground at his feet and in the electricity of Zenyatta’s palm.

 

He feels the warmth when Zenyatta turns to him and presses his mouth to his cheek, and nuzzles more static against a greying temple, and the blush washes over Genji’s whole face and when he looks back at himself in the stream _he is alive, and he is here._

 

 

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

 

 

When Genji leaves the Shambali Monastery, his last thought is this: “ _I can’t believe I am so lucky._ ”

 

_(To be here, to be with you, to be with the world.)_

  


 

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

 

An omnic.

 

A human, part machine.  


 

 

Two beloved, and most beautiful souls.

 

 

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can follow me at my [tumblr](http://7clubs.tumblr.com) or my [art twitter](https://twitter.com/7GROVEYS) ! I am an artist first before a writer.
> 
> I also have a [ramble twitter](https://twitter.com/7radishcakes) where I post less seriously, and maybe I'll talk about epilogue progress and my next fic venture, possibly.
> 
>   **Fic Art by me**  
>  Chapters 5-8: [Various Images](http://7clubs.tumblr.com/post/159421334119/a-bunch-of-art-i-made-for-my-fanfic-mind-body) (Nightmare, Smiley Orb Zen, Cheek Squish, Post-training)  
> Title Image/Chapter 11: ["Hello world."](http://7clubs.tumblr.com/post/160778614769/hello-world-its-almost-5am-anyway-heres)  
> Chapter 15: [ Shambali hugs! ](http://7clubs.tumblr.com/post/161896440464/little-something-from-my-fanfic-3c-guys-i)  
> Chapter 16: [Sleephovering Monk Sachi](http://7clubs.tumblr.com/post/162668222999/you-know-what-making-fanomnics-is-fun-especially) +bonus Aziza  
> Chapter 19/20: [Japan outfits](http://7clubs.tumblr.com/post/163794002564/casual-genji-and-shambali-rep-zenyatta-b-just)  
> Chapter 20: ["I'm falling in love right now."](http://7clubs.tumblr.com/post/164483183384/im-falling-in-love-right-now-3c-more-art-for-my)
> 
>  **Fanart**  
> [Chapter 2](https://gayintotheiris.tumblr.com/post/157990917065/i-found-this-part-in-this-fic-really-funny-poor) by gayintotheiris


	23. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> At the beginning of it all, two boyfriends- human and omnic- check into a hotel.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Friday the 13th. Cool. Tiny epilogue. Uh. Chapter notes? For context, Dashain is Nepal's biggest festival, by the way, and is usually a homecoming event. I can't think of much more to say.
> 
>  
> 
> Thanks, everyone, for coming along the ride~

The hotel isn’t anything too special. Similar to the little ones he had stayed in together with the Shambali, and their room was certainly nothing close to the opulence Genji had seen in his youth. A single and simple bed, a charging bay and other omnic amenities for Zen.

 

Genji turns off the lights, with the glow from his own body being sufficient, and with him ready to tuck in for the night. Zenyatta’s orbs also highlight the small room just enough, and it feels like he’s blessing the space with how he seems deep in thought.

 

Genji tests the bed by perching on its edge, and then hops right off it again and bounds towards the big and curtained window across.

 

He hears Zen perk up as he pushes the curtains open wide. Genji then gasps in awe, and walks back towards his bed and lays back.

 

The skies over Bhaktapur are deep blue, and there’s a glow over the horizon. The forms of ancient temples cut through the skyline, some of their windows sporting a golden light. The city lights change little, with vehicles scarcely zooming past.

 

Zenyatta then slowly hovers to look out the window as well, and Genji remembers mountains. His form is only highlighted by the orbs as they brighten up for a moment. And then, they dim, and Genji smiles as he observes the gentle movement of his boyfriend’s silhouette against the window. The slow hover up and down, the sway of his tassels and clothes, the bob of his shoulder plates as his arms lag behind the movements of his body, as if breathing.

 

Genji lingers a few moments more, looking down the bright red wires from Zen’s head and gracing, curving down his spine. And then he breathes, and then rolls around in the blankets and bundles himself up.

 

It’s the first time they’ve actually spent the night together, and it is strange and new.

 

“I’ll be going to sleep.” He rears his head up from the sheets, and Zenyatta turns around and nods back.

 

“Tired?”

 

“I mean. Not really. It was really quick to here from Kathmandu.” Genji further punctuates it with a shrug. “Guess we have a lot to do tomorrow, though. You’ve been to Bhaktapur a lot, right?”

 

Zenyatta hovers close, “We’ve done a lot of guest lectures in the universities here. The Shambali also used to visit the temples just about constantly when we were just starting out.”

 

He then falls silent, clasps his hands together. Takes a little moment before his orbs charge back to life. “It’s a beautiful, spiritual place. Especially with Dashain coming up.”

 

“Hmm.” Genji nods, and then shifts in bed some more. “Lots to see, then--- yeah I’ll sleep.” He closes his eyes.

 

“Good night.” Zenyatta moves to his side and leans over, brushing his hand over Genji’s locks. He whirrs a little faster to see his boyfriend smirk and flush at that.

 

He then turns back to the window, his hand still absently playing with hair. He watches as little specks of rain start to fleck unto the glass. And then, he’s transfixed. The droplets catch the light of the city. Streaking down, meeting droplet to droplet, slowing as they spread water thin, then pooling back together. Then they form maps across the glass anew.

 

Thunder roars in and Genji blinks open. As a gentler rumble sounds and more rain pours in, he shifts, and then rolls around to face Zenyatta. Genji takes his hand and strokes it with static.

 

“You alright?” Genji asks.

 

“What? Why?”

 

“I mean. I know we’re new to this sharing a room thing.” Genji grins awkwardly. “But you’ve been really quiet.”

 

Zenyatta shrugs, and lowers himself so he actually sits upon the bed slightly. His head bows, his fingers wringing together and fidgeting.

 

Genji knits his brow at that. “Still thinking about the Shambali?”

 

“It’s still so strange to actually leave. And just before Dashain, they must think of me so-”

 

“-Shhh. Zeny.” Genji squeezes his wrist, “We’ve been through this. You can’t let yourself keep thinking they hate you for leaving. They really don’t.”

 

“I can’t help it. I used to go here with them… And I’ve  _ abandoned _ -” Zenyatta shakes his head, stopping himself.

 

Genji sighs, and props himself up on his elbows. “Remember what’s real.They cared about you so much.” Genji then sits up, and hugs Zenyatta from behind, resting his chin on his shoulder and offering a smile. “You’ve gone through a lot lately. Be kind to yourself. And trust them. Trust their kindness and love for you.”

 

“T-trust them.” Zenyatta shakes a little in Genji’s grasp, but he manages a nod. His shoulders droop. “Sorry. You should rest.”   
  
Genji pouts, but lays back down with his hands behind his head, sort of hiding between his bent elbows. “Alright. Though… it’s pretty weird.”

 

Zen turns back to him, sitting on the bed fully now, and then hugs his knees to his chest. “What is?”

“I mean.” Genji shrugs. “We’re sharing a room, but you don’t really sleep. So...”

 

Zenyatta tilts his head. “You’ve fallen asleep on me plenty of times, Genji.”

 

“But you know-” Genji gestures outward with his elbows “I’m out for eight hours and you, uh… power down for three, maximum, and then just sort of meditate there.”

 

“I don’t mind.” Zenyatta shrugs. “It’s not as if I’m going anywhere while you sleep. I always spend a few hours resting. I’ll just feel less alone with my thoughts, now.”

 

They go quiet as thunder rolls in, both of them looking out at the window. Rain splatters the glass, making the lights outside blur and ripple. Droplets glimmering, refracted light running down in golden streaks.

 

Zenyatta shifts his sitting quietly. And then, he extends his legs and settles down on the bed on his back. Genji instinctively leans his cheek on him and watches Zen. The omnic slowly sinks in, letting gravity work, and Genji snickers as he vanishes into the duvet.

 

“You really aren’t used to beds, aren’t you?”

 

“Goodness, no.” Zenyatta floats back up just a hint. “I’m heavier than I look. It’s like I’m being smothered.”

 

“...You don’t have to do this for me, really.”

 

“When’s the last time you got to cuddle in bed?” Zenyatta rolls onto his side, facing Genji now, and moves closer.

 

“Weeeeell…” Genji bites his lip, but then he extends his hands out and draws Zenyatta in to smush his face unto. He immediately finds himself giggling.

 

“What?” Zen coos.

 

“This is perfect.” Genji lets himself be jabbed in the cheek by a piston. Zen hums happily in reply. He further dims his orbs so their glare relaxes on Genji’s eyes, and together they continue to watch the window.

 

There’s a rumble that rattles through the room. The sky lights up with more sparks, and Genji would mentally count the beats before the thunder follows, pondering how far away each lightning strike is.

 

The sky darkens, the city blurs behind flowing water, lit windows glimmering now like stars. The temples move back into clarity as the rainwater settles at the bottom, only for the wind to spray more rain, and there the dance begins anew.

 

And Genji closes his eyes, he lets city lights fade away into a song. From the thunder to the one beneath Zenyatta’s chassis, and to the faintest thrum of his orbs. Genji feels a kiss to his forehead, and he moves ever closer, pulling blankets with him, and the circuits have never felt warmer with life. Zenyatta sinks in as he turns his gravity back on, and Genji sinks with him.

 

And there they linger as Genji contemplates sleep and Zenyatta contemplates stars, the rush of water coming and going.

 

And there are memories, things Genji once feared, like a little sparrow who loathed storms. And there is a man and the sounds his own body made.

 

And it truly is something to reclaim, to find happiness in what once was a curse. And he finds it here, whirring against him. Full of emotion, full of life that he now knows also resides in himself.

 

Genji rolls away wordlessly after a while to Zenyatta’s surprise, but before he can say a word Genji’s already tinkering with his armor. Detaching white plates and other components from his chest and over his left shoulder and arm.

 

Zenyatta glimpses scratched and burnt flesh, deep dark scars where nerves give away to circuitry, the flex of synthetic skin. Genji places the armor aside on a table, and then quickly moves back into bed and smiles sheepishly at Zen.

 

He reaches out with scarred flesh, real and uncovered now, and he strokes over the seam of Zenyatta’s mouth, and his eyes pinch at the corners and glisten just a little. He makes a little sound as Zenyatta takes hold of that hand- _ then hesitates, then takes the prosthetic one too _ \- and he squeezes them in his own mechanical hands. He kisses them both before leaning in to kiss Genji on the lips, too.

 

Genji is then eager to wrap his arms around Zenyatta’s waist and close his eyes again, his fingers relishing the feel of the metal, of bolts and seams and the smooth glide of his shoulderplates, to re-learn and memorize every detail of his lover with bare fingertips, with nerves and circuits. Two different, two wonderful ways to feel and know his body.

 

And his face nuzzles against Zen’s chest, and he runs his palm up Zen’s spine, and he delicately strokes over wiring, which makes the omnic tremble just a little. There’s a gasp from Genji as Zenyatta ruffles his hair, and moves down to squeeze his bared shoulder.

 

And then, Genji is content to let his touch get lazy, and to press his ear back to pure music, and to feel himself drift off and have no fear of nightmares.

 

And Zenyatta thinks, well, he wouldn’t mind a night stuck like this, for here despite his fears and guilt, and the void that is the future. He remembers he isn’t alone.

 

And as he feels Genji’s breathing deepen and sounding like almost-snores, he moves gently to rouse the other just a few moments more.

 

And Zenyatta says this: “I love you.”

 

Genji smiles, eyes still closed.

 

“I love you too.”

  
  
  


* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

 

And here, together, they are home.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feel free to ask me questions about this fic (If ya'll want it, I might drop a bonus chapter to just. Ramble about it and themes and whatnot) and again- for those who came along for the ride, for commenting/subscribing/kudos/bookmarking, for tuning in all these months, or perhaps binge reading this in one go. You made it to the end. Of my first longfic...
> 
> Thank you!
> 
> So uh, what's next?  
> I'm going to clean up this fic a little first (especially with the first few chapters, I don't think I've ever properly edited some of them + I'm going to merge some into larger chapters) and then I'm sort of hoping to do a short Mchanzo fic. And then another Genyatta fic in some kind of AU. I don't think I can manage another 77k but, welp. We shall see!
> 
>  
> 
> You can follow me at my [tumblr](http://7clubs.tumblr.com) or my [art twitter](https://twitter.com/7GROVEYS) ! I am an artist first before a writer.
> 
> I also have a [ramble twitter](https://twitter.com/7radishcakes) where I post less seriously, and throw around new fic ideas.
> 
>  **The Reference Game**  
>  Chapter 14: Hatoful Boyfriend: Holiday Star (I'm serious about this)  
> Chapter 22: De Do Do Do, De Da Da Da (from the Police's album, Zenyatta Mondatta. For obvious reasons.)
> 
>   **Fic Art by me**  
>  Chapters 5-8: [Various Images](http://7clubs.tumblr.com/post/159421334119/a-bunch-of-art-i-made-for-my-fanfic-mind-body) (Nightmare, Smiley Orb Zen, Cheek Squish, Post-training)  
> Title Image/Chapter 11: ["Hello world."](http://7clubs.tumblr.com/post/160778614769/hello-world-its-almost-5am-anyway-heres)  
> Chapter 15: [ Shambali hugs! ](http://7clubs.tumblr.com/post/161896440464/little-something-from-my-fanfic-3c-guys-i)  
> Chapter 16: [Sleephovering Monk Sachi](http://7clubs.tumblr.com/post/162668222999/you-know-what-making-fanomnics-is-fun-especially) +bonus Aziza  
> Chapter 19/20: [Japan outfits](http://7clubs.tumblr.com/post/163794002564/casual-genji-and-shambali-rep-zenyatta-b-just)  
> Chapter 20: ["I'm falling in love right now."](http://7clubs.tumblr.com/post/164483183384/im-falling-in-love-right-now-3c-more-art-for-my)
> 
>  **Fanart**  
> [Chapter 2](https://gayintotheiris.tumblr.com/post/157990917065/i-found-this-part-in-this-fic-really-funny-poor) by gayintotheiris


End file.
